Throwing Stones (at a world made of infinite layers)
by chocolateowl
Summary: Black's on the loose, but Tony doesn't care because he's finally going to Hogwarts. What could go wrong in the best wizarding school of Britain? Of course, he doesn't take into account that he's something of a trouble magnet... but why is Harry Potter looking at him so suspiciously all the time? Why does he feel such a strong sense of déjà vu when he sees those five other students?
1. The Letter

**Chapter 1: The Letter**

The strange objects in the room twinkled with an odd blue light, while the people in the portraits snoozed gently in the background. In the center of the clutter, sat an old man at a weathered desk with the expectant air of a person who was waiting for some sort of visitor. A tattered book lay open in his lap, surrounding by the wayward silver strands of hair from his beard.

A sharp rap instantly brought him to alertness as his eyes sharply flickered to the door. A moment of hesitation followed, then he quietly said, "Come in, Minerva."

A stern-looking women entered the room, a bun placed neatly on her head as she swept through the room to stand in front of the old man.

"You called, Albus?"

Albus nodded gravely, before standing up and placing the book on the desk. He reached out to grab a silver bowl filled with yellow sweets, and offered one to the woman standing in front of him.

"Lemon drop?"

Minerva gave him an exasperated look. Albus just smiled faintly, before popping one in his mouth. "Your decision, I suppose."

As he placed the silver bowl carefully back on the table, Minerva strolled over to take a closer look at the battered book lying open on the wooden surface. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the spindly handwriting on the cover. "Is this written by Beedle the Bard?"

Albus raised an eyebrow, before evenly responding, "'Are you familiar with 'The Stones of Creation'?"

Minerva looked up to meet Albus's amused expression, her mouth thinning. "No, but I don't see how fables have anything to do with the situation at hand." She waved her hand exasperatedly over the dark cover. "Black is on the loose, and all we have are fairy tales?"

Albus just stared at her, his eyes unnervingly sharp as he slowly sat back down in his seat.

"Truths often make up the core of a story," he sighed. "It's inconvenient to sort out the falsehoods from the truth, but that's the price of knowledge."

He showed his first sign of impatience when Minerva opened her mouth to protest again, and waved her objections away.

"I'll read the tale first," he said. At her incredulous look, he sighed and gestured to the book, which flipped open. Quietly, but firmly, he stated, "It's not about Black."

" _What_?" Minerva nearly shrieked. "We should be focusing on the murderer, not on a child's bedtime story." But a look from Albus, icy without its customary twinkle, made her quiet down unwillingly.

With a hint of weariness, Albus said, "Minerva, I wish that we were just dealing with Black. But something's brewing, and the only clue I've been able to find was in this book."

"What about Harr-"

"I have not forgotten about Harry," he interrupted. "But we must be ready for the storm that is brewing."

He glanced at Minerva, who, after a indecisive pause, closed her mouth and nodded stiffly. With that seemingly decided, he looked down and began reading.

" _In the beginning, before the creation of the universe, there were six sentient beings that lived in peace. But there came a day when a sudden explosion ripped through the endless peace, throwing bits of earth and dust throughout the darkened night. The dirt clumped together, forming planets and stars to fill the newly created universe with light."_

" _But the six beings were destroyed, and their remnants were scattered across the universe, forming into six stones of tremendous abilities. The first stone was made of sheer power, while the second had the ability to influence reality itself. The third stone could manipulate space, the fourth, time, and the fifth could manipulate consciousness and minds. And the sixth stone was rumored to be able to house souls inside circles and lines."_

" _A single one of these stones could bring the population of an entire planet to its knees. But the energy from something as powerful as these stones must be dispersed somewhere. The stones created a pocket in the universe, and the living beings learned to harness the energy inside this tear."_

" _But if these stones are ever brought together, the magic in this pocket will overflow. Worlds will be meshed, towns will be burned, and hatred will be sown. And that's when the chosen will be ripped from their world to avenge their own."_

Albus closed the book, looking across to Minerva, who was looking intrigued, but skeptical.

"Albus, you can't possibly believe that this could be true."

With growing confidence in her voice, she went on. "It's just a child's tale, just like 'The Tale of Three Brothers.' We can't just go on believing every bedtime story we hear."

Albus just looked at her calmly, picking up his wand and rolling the wood between his long fingers.

She went on with a nearly inaudible snort, completely at odds compared to her usual severe demeanor. "Imagine, having invincible wands and powerful stones. It's completely outrageous."

He replied lightly, "I suppose so."

Clearly still unsettled, Minerva glanced back at the book on the table, frowning slightly. "It even rhymes."

"Yes, it does," Albus said, faintly amused.

A short pause. "Was that all?"

"That was all I wanted to show you." He waved a hand at the door, politely dismissing her. "Thank you for your time Minerva. You're free to go."

Minerva strode to the door before hesitating. Then impulsively, as if she couldn't hold herself back, she quietly asked, "But it can't be real, right?"

He didn't answer, but his look of resignation said enough.

* * *

 _He reached out to touch the laughing face of a woman, red hair framing her face like an angel surrounded by flames. Then her face closed off suddenly, as she turned around and spotted something far off in the distance._

 _A sudden pang of longing struck his heart, and he held out his hand pleadingly._

 _Don't go, he wanted to say. We can make this work._

 _But his voice wasn't working, and metal was materializing all around him._

 _She looked back at him with a tired glance, and shook her head, before turning on her heel and strolling away. Behind her, a purple figure loomed higher, fist adorned with a glittering golden gauntlet._

 _By this time, the red and gold fully materialized around him, and his held-out hand hummed with a glittering blue light. But the giant just laughed, and held up his golden gauntlet with the six glowing stones on it._

 _He tried blasting the glove off, the repulsors at his sides shooting a beam of white light that got batted away like a cat with a piece of yarn._

" _You can't stop me, Tony Stark."_

 _He could see the amusement in the giant's eyes, as if he was an insignificant speck on the ground. You can't protect them, they seemed to reflect mockingly._

 _And you'll know what it's like to lose._

 _With a soundless roar, he charged at the purple giant, repulsors whirring as they absorbed energy from the blue light on his chest. But the giant just held on bejeweled hand up, and snapped his fingers with a triumphant smirk._

 _Then a small voice whispered, "Mister Stark?"_

 _He glanced down to see a young boy, desperately stumbling towards him._

" _I don't… I don't feel so good."_

 _The anger immediately drained out of him as he watched the boy collapse into his arms, coughing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the giant flicker into nothingness, but he absolutely didn't care because all his thoughts were coalescing into a few jumbled words._

 _No._

 _Not him._

" _I don't want to go, please, I don't want to."_

 _The quiet, resigned voice nearly cut through him as his_ _repulsors died out and he helplessly wrapped a red and gold hand around the boy._

 _Please no- not him, please, don't take him away too._

 _The boy slowly began disintegrating into dust, and the solid, breathing flesh underneath him faded away into pieces of gray ash._

" _I'm- sorry."_

 _And with that, his world shattered into fragments of pain and grief. The boy was gone, blown away by the wind until only a few pieces of gray ash lingered in the air._

 _Gone._

 _A rip in his chest opened up, and he could almost imagine the blue glow settling back into his chest, transforming back into a second heart because the other one felt like it was being torn out. It was just like the time when the shards of metal got embedded inside his chest, and iron wires and copper bolts were the only things that kept him alive._

 _Both times there was a hole in his chest, and both times he couldn't save them._

 _He stayed there in the wasteland, crouched on the ground for what seemed like centuries, feeling the broken throb of his heart and watching the remaining ash slowly settle on the dusty ground._

 _Then a voice broke through the suffocating silence._

" _What would you do to get him back?"_

 _The words weren't spoken aloud. Rather, they hung in the air like shards of glass spinning gracefully out of control. It was more of a silent murmur that managed to linger in the air, soft and gentle, and definitely not human._

 _He didn't look behind him as he whispered, voice brittle and so unlike the soft sound of the unknown being, "Anything."_

" _Anything?"_

 _A pause, and then he repeated, "Anything."_

 _The voice replied steadily, "First, you must find Death and summon_ _the stones."_

 _He spun around, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What does that even mean?"_

 _Then his eyes widened as he spotted the orange glowing ball behind him, pulsing with power and growing larger with every passing second. The light swallowed him up, but not before he caught the last murmur of words from the strange orange orb._

 _"And then, you'll get him back afterwards."_

* * *

Tony woke up in a twisted pile of blankets, his head swirling with half-formed, panicked thoughts and his chest aching with something indiscernible. Taking a deep breathe of air, he clutched his sheets and tried to steady his shaking hands.

 _Focus. Just another weird dream Tony, nothing to get so worked up about._

He could still smell the scent of pickled slugs and mint that was still in the air from the last potion he accidentally spilled on the ground. He could even faintly hear the metal clanging from his father downstairs, which indicated that he was working on another potion.

Mentally he sighed, because that basically meant that he had to stay away from his dear old grumpy father for the rest of the day until the potion was done. But it wasn't too big of a deal, considering that he was already a pro at avoiding said grumpy father.

The lack of humming in the rooms downstairs indicated that his mother probably was off somewhere, doing goodie good things in the muggle world. She focused on charities and other events to help bring up their reputations as a rich family (Howard did occasionally invent "medicines" for the muggle world).

She almost hired a butler because they were that rich, but his father refused to have one, especially since he didn't want to "deal with some idiotic fella who knows nothing about the wizarding world and will eventually call the police on us because of said stupidity." He would never tell his father, but there were times where he occasionally wished that his mother would hire a butler just so he had someone else to talk to. He could almost imagine the butler's voice, kind and caring. Someone who he could rely on.

Too bad that wasn't ever going to happen.

Rolling around in his bed, he kicked the sheets off himself. Already, the dream was fading away, as he pushed the last remnants of fogginess and panic away because he couldn't risk being off-balanced and wonky while working on a potion. The last time he did that, he accidentally fell into the fire, and nearly burnt off his entire face.

(St Mungos probably had a bed saved just for him, considering how much times he managed to injure himself.)

After he hopped off his bed and grabbed a dusty old cloak from the hook hanging on the wall, he quietly edged down the stairs to grab some ingredients from the cupboard downstairs. Unfortunately, summer meant that he had to practice his potions all day long, unlike some other kids who actually were able to relax, or eat poison, or whatever normal kids do in this day and age.

Apparently, being the son of a famous potion master meant that he also had to be an expert at creating weird drinks. But he actually didn't mind too much, since making potions was _awesome_. People got confused with the knick-knacks behind brewing a potion all the time. But for Tony, it was somehow easy to remember whether or not he had to stir five turns counterclockwise or add a dash of powdered bone.

Anyways, it was honestly kind of entertaining to see how remembering all the steps to a twenty ingredient potion caused jaws to drops. Memorizing things was as easy as chowing down a piece of chocolate. Inventing potions to fit exactly what was needed was the hard part.

After stumbling downstairs, he grabbed a spare bottle of a Pepper-Up potion lying haphazardly on the table before downing it. Immediately, steam whistled out of his ears, and his drowsiness somewhat faded away.

Now _that_ was better. He could actually think semi-properly, what a surprise.

Just three more doses left to go, and he'll be as good as new.

Before the little annoying voice in his head could berate him for drinking yet another dose of Pepper-Up (addiction and too much is bad, that sort of thing, blah blah), he quickly gathered another handful of fire seeds and mandrake root before scampering upstairs. Considering that his own secret stash of Pepper-Up potions was running out alarmingly fast from his mass consumption of them, it was an absolute necessity to brew some more.

Before he could disappear inside his room to make more drugs (yay!), he spotted an owl flying through an open window on the bottom floor. Where his grumpy father was currently working on one of his extremely important potions.

He froze. Then he mentally snorted to himself, because what were the odds that this owl was supposed to be for him?

Maybe it was another request for his father to brew yet another potion? Or som-

"Anthony. Come downstairs. Right. Now."

As if on cue, his father's voice drifted up to his room, filled to the brim with exasperation.

There went his goal to avoid grumpy old fathers.

With a sigh, he dumped the ingredients outside his door, and trudged downstairs. Honestly, he would be so much more impressed that his father could communicate across an entire floor without screaming if he wasn't going to be lectured in a couple of minutes. What was the letter even about anyways?

Outside the potions room, he waited with one of his better poker faces, allowing his hand to tap a nervous beat against his leg.

Did someone finally discover that he was the one to spike the Minister of Magic's drink with a Laughing potion?

His father soon appeared in the doorway, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Stop tapping your finger on your leg. It's obvious that you're nervous, and you don't want your rivals to take advantage of that."

Tony immediately stopped, nearly spitting back a frustrated retort before reigning himself in.

He really wasn't in the mood to make this worse. Any other day, he would have gladly snarked back, but that weird dream that he couldn't even remember (something about glowing orange balls?) added on to his lack of Pepper-Up potions made him want to get over this as fast as possible.

He strolled inside the brewing room and watched Howard snatch the letter on top of a blackened table. It was a white envelope emblazoned with a bold red seal.

No way. Was it-

"Your Hogwarts letter, I presume," Howard said, handing over the paper.

Trying to hold back his excitement, Tony reached a hand over to the piece of paper, but then hesitated. Something didn't feel… right.

He never felt that way before.

His father looked at him strangely, still holding out the letter. "I thought you wanted to go to Hogwarts?"

He tried to shove the letter in Tony's outstretched hand, but the feeling of _wrongness_ overwhelmed him, and he quickly snatched his hand back before the letter could touch him.

"C-could you just, place the letter on the table instead?"

Howard gave him a stern glare, and shook his head. "You can't do something like that. People are going to be handing you papers all the time, so get used to it."

Pushing the feeling away, Tony reluctantly held out his hand, waiting for the paper to fall onto his open palm. But of course, his hand had to decide to be a rebel, instinctively flinching away when Howard dropped the letter. He quickly knelt down and snatched it up from the ground, pretending that nothing happened because seriously… not being able to be handed things?

Now that was just pure _lame_.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Howard's hand pinch his brow in exasperation, with one of those disappointed sighs that made his heart drop painfully. But before he could flee from the room, Howard clamped a steady hand on his shoulder.

"I expect you to do well in school, with none of that nonsense you just showed."

"Of course my goal in life is to fail school, _dad_ ," Tony retorted, watching the letter fold under his clenched fists.

Howard sighed, before letting go of him. "I just want you do reach your full potential." He looked at Tony seriously. "Be something more than just a casual tinkerer with potions. You can do so much more with your life, so take that opportunity."

And with that piece of very helpful wisdom, he turned around to sprinkle something on his secret concoction, silently dismissing him.

No congratulations. No praise.

It wasn't a surprise anyways. He never got any praise when he was four, and managed to brew his first potion. Or when he invented his own potion when he was only six, a brew that caused the drinker to grow cat ears and a tail (a slight variation of the Polyjuice potion). Howard wasn't really pleased with the results of that one, but Tony totally didn't care about his opinion.

(He didn't spend the night staring up at the ceiling, obsessively wondering on how he could do something _right_.)

And now he was 11, and apparently wasting his life away brewing funky little potions. Surprise, surprise.

Something ugly bubbled up in Tony, and he almost blurted out if Howard even _cared_ about him anymore besides being smart and getting a good reputation. But luckily, he managed to push the feeling down before anything spilled out.

Feelings were dumb anyways. Made him burst out into hives, so he would rather avoid the subject.

"Why are you still here?" Howard muttered quietly, back turned against him.

Ignoring the pang in his chest, he quickly slid out of the musty potions room, clutching the piece of paper to his chest. When he was safely outside, his calm mask crumpled to pieces.

He shouldn't have expected anything else.

So why did a tiny part of him expect some sort of congratulations for getting into the best wizarding school in Britain?

Snorting to himself bitterly, he collapsed against the wall, gently peeling open the red stamp off the envelope to read the fancy cursive inside. Howard probably thought sending him off to Hogwarts was one of his best decisions he had ever made.

As he skimmed through the letter and the list of school supplies, a trickle of determination slowly filled the back of his mind.

He would become the best wizard in the school, and then his father would have to be proud of him.

Maybe if he kept on working, he would able to be someone special, not just the little kid who hung around the back all the time. Maybe he would turn into someone _worthwhile_ , if he just became better.

Maybe his dad would be proud. Wouldn't that be something?

But for now, he just had to pretend that he was untouchable, because his father's opinion actually didn't matter much. He was a Stark, and Starks were made of iron. Wasn't that how the expression went?

He stared at the letter blankly, ignoring the watery feeling in his chest.

Just be wiser.

Be stronger.

Be _better_.

The mantra filled his mind, the little whisper in the back of his head that never ever went away.

 _Just be better._

* * *

 **And that's the start of the Avengers in Hogwarts! As you probably could tell, this story takes place during the same time frame as _The Prisoner of Azkaban_. The Golden Trio will be in their third year of Hogwarts, but the Avengers will still be in their first year.**

 **Btw, how did you guys think of Howard? I wanted to make him seem kind of emotionless and very stern, but I didn't want him to seem purposefully cruel. From what I could tell in the Marvel Universe, he wasn't really a terrible guy, but it was kind of obvious that he didn't bring up Tony with a very caring demeanor. I could definitely see him being a bit distant and very demanding, but in his mind, he's just trying to do the best for Tony. But of course, that method of parenting doesn't really work.**

 **If you have any constructive criticism, or parts you really enjoyed in this chappie, feel free to leave a review. Anytime I see a fav, follow, or review, I get super happy. Otherwise, hope you guys enjoyed this!**


	2. The Alley

**Chapter 2: The Alley**

When Tony first entered Magical Menagerie, he almost got murdered by a huge orange fur ball.

It wasn't even his fault this time: no explosions, nada. He was actually contemplating on getting a pet before realizing that he was probably going to forget to feed it for a week. But before he could walk out of the store, the massive orange cat started chasing a rat and bodily knocked him over.

He cursed under his breath, feeling the dirt underneath his hands. This was why cats and him were a nono, because for some reason, they believed that they were the center of the world, which was absolutely ridiculous. They weren't allowed to take his spot.

A lanky redhead raced after the crazy cat, shouting, "SCABBERS!" Another dark-haired boy followed him, before skidding to a stop before seeing Tony sprawled on the ground.

"Are you okay?"

Tony huffed out a reply, "Do you think I'm okay?" He gestured to the ground, "The ground's very comfortable this time of the year."

The boy gave him a weird look, but held out his hand. Tony grudgingly clasped it, and pulled himself up, brushing away the remaining specks of dust off himself.

"Are you going to-" he waved at the redhead chasing his orange cat far off in the distance, "help your friend catch his annoying cat that nearly murdered me over here?"

The boy glanced over his shoulder, before answering. "That's not his cat. He has the rat."

He turned back to face Tony again, eyes questioning. "Anyways, Hermione should be here any second to get her pet, so I'll just wait for them both here. Did you get lost from your group?"

The real question was, who was Hermione? He shrugged his shoulders, "Don't have a group."

He might have left his dad in the apothecary shop looking for more potion items. It didn't really matter anyways, since he was perfectly fine shopping for his school supplies himself.

"I thought- er nevermind, Black's probably not going to show up here," the boy said, rubbing his hair awkwardly. As he did, a thin scar shaped like a lightning bolt appeared on his forehead before being covered by his hair again.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Harry Potter?"

The newly dubbed Harry winced and quickly pulled his hand down from his head. With a sort of resigned tone of voice, he said, "The one and only."

"Aren't you the Voldy-Slayer? Boy-Who-Didn't-Die? Something along those lines?"

Harry gaped at him. "Voldy-Slayer?"

Tony impatiently nodded. "Yea, the Voldy-Slayer. Defeated You-Know-Who, even though that is a completely ridiculous name because what if you actually didn't know who the other person was talking about?"

"What are you- did you just- er…"

Probably just broke him, Tony thought (maybe a bit too gleefully) as he watched Harry splutter some more. He would have loved to mess around him some more, but he really did need to get his school supplies before the end of the day so…

"Well, fun meeting you, Mr. Harold," he cheerfully waved while walking away, leaving Harry standing there bewildered as the redhead trudged towards him with a spitting cat in his arms.

* * *

With a trunk full of school books and robes, Tony was _so_ ready to get a deadly magical stick in his possession. Honestly, who thought it was a good idea to gift a bunch of eleven-year-olds the power of wizardry and magic?

If Hogwarts didn't have at least five explosions by the end of the year, he would be extremely disappointed with himself.

As he walked up to Ollivanders, he spotted another customer around his age through the window, clutching a wand. An older woman, presumably his mother, stood nearby watching.

The old wizard standing besides the two said, "-illow, unicorn hair, surprisingly swishy. Eleven and a half inches."

The boy inside raised the wand, and brought it down, trailing green mist behind. His mother cheered behind him, and the old wizard gave a satisfied nod. A growing excitement began to flicker inside of Tony as he watched the boy walk out with the wand in hand.

Mr. Ollivander spotted him staring, and motioned him inside. "Another customer?"

Tony quickly quashed his growing excitement, before stepping inside the shop, eying the piles of dusty boxes on the shelves.

"Tony Stark? Interesting…" said Mr. Ollivander, looking at him with an odd look in his kind of creepy silver eyes. "That's strange…"

Tony blurted out, "What's strange?" before he could stop himself. Inwardly, he groaned because he just wanted to get his wand as fast as possible. And possibly destroy something.

Mr. Ollivander seemed to realize that, because he smiled amusedly. "Usually I remember every single customer's wand, but I can't seem to figure out what your father's wand was."

Tony shifted awkwardly under his pale, searching gaze, shrugging. "Maybe you just forgot? Or maybe he got a wand from a different store?"

"Perhaps," said Mr. Ollivander, still looking at him. He finally looked up, and summoned a measuring tape with a flick of his wand. The measuring tape started to twirl around him, taking measurements.

"Your wand arm?"

"Right-handed," Tony responded, staring at the measuring tape that was doing cartwheels around his face.

"Alright," Mr. Ollivander muttered, pulling out a pile of dusty boxes and setting them in front of Tony as the measuring tape stopped doing flips and collapsed on the table. He waved his hand at the lopsided pile. "Try one out."

He didn't need to ask twice. Tony grasped a wand, and waved it around like a madman.

"Ash, unicorn hair. Flexible. Twelve in-"

The wand suddenly grew hot in his hand, and he dropped it on the ground, holding his hand and hissing in pain. He stared at Mr. Ollivander, wide-eyed. "What was that?"

Mr. Ollivander just looked back at him with a glint in his eye. "Curious…"

Tony nearly threw up his hands in exasperation before containing himself, and settled on giving an inaudible sigh. He just wanted a wand, what was so hard about that?

Mr. Ollivander picked up the wand from the ground, and placed it on the table carefully. "Wait for a moment," he said, before disappearing to the back of the shop.

A couple of centuries later (alright, a couple of minutes, but that was still longer than a moment), Mr. Ollivander appeared with another dusty box in his hand. "Take a look at this one. Phoenix feather and walnut, ten and a half inches, solid."

Tony took the wand cautiously, before flicking it at a window. Something inside of him cackled in delight, and he felt a _pull_ before the window exploded in a shower of glass, and red and gold sparks.

Now _that_ was an explosion.

A slight thought to maybe apologize for wrecking the store nudged his mind, but before he could say anything, Mr. Ollivander waved his wand, muttering, "Reparo." Immediately, the window fixed itself, leaving the ground spotless of glass shards.

He turned back to Tony with an unusually serious look in his pale eyes, and the apology in his throat died down. "Mr. Stark. This wand…" He let out a small, dry cough, before continuing.

"Twelve and three quarters, walnut. Dragon heartstring core. Unyielding."

Tony said, "But… that's not this wand?"

"I am well aware of that," Mr. Ollivander said dryly. "But it was the wand of Bellatrix Lestrange, a serial killer imprisoned in Azkaban. The cousin of Sirius Black."

He paused, before continuing after seeing the confused look on Tony's face. "Walnut wood wands are very unusual. They… have a tendency to feed off the wizard, allowing the wizard to do the same."

Tony deadpanned, "So walnut wands are evil."

Mr. Ollivander sighed, before shaking his head. "No, the wand isn't evil. It's the wizard who holds the wand that brings the magic to its true potential. A knife isn't evil, yes? Only the user is. It's the same concept."

Tony frowned, fingering the wand between his fingers. "So… you're saying that I'm evil? For your information, I don't walk that way. I just do whatever I need to do, maybe leave a bunch of explosions, but generally don't plan on destroying the entire world."

"I am not saying that you are evil." His pale gaze fixed upon his face, studying him closely. "In fact, walnut wood wands are often found in inventors and people of high intelligence. But I am warning you to be careful with this wand, as I have told many before you to do so."

"Don't worry, I'll definitely be careful with this highly dangerous, potentially life-threatening piece of wood," Tony replied cheerfully, sticking the wand in his back pocket and taking out a couple of galleons.

"Bellatrix Lestrange came into this store sane, decades ago. She came out of Hogwarts wielding her wand, laughing maniacally and bringing terror on this wizarding world. The wand chooses the wizard, after all, but that does not mean letting it consume you," Mr. Ollivander said coolly.

Tony slid eight galleons on the table, and nodded to the old wizard resignedly. "I'll keep that in mind."

Mr. Ollivander bowed, and gestured to the door. "Enjoy your wand."

As Tony walked out of the shop, the warning lingering in the back of his mind, he faintly heard Mr. Ollivander muttering, "Howard Stark… what wand did he have?"

Well, someone was still annoyed about having a failing memory.

* * *

After wandering around Diagon Alley a bit more, watching the busy crowd bustle their way up stores and swinging around large parcels of goods, he ended up staring at a brooms display with two other boys. Both of them looked like first-years, even if one of the boys was enormous. Not fat enormous, per se, but muscle enormous.

"Imagine having a Firebolt," the big, muscle-y blond boy next to him breathed out with a hint of worship in his voice. The other boy next to him let out a confused snort, staring at the brooms.

"What are you going to use the brooms for? Sweeping floors?"

The blond boy turned over to the other boy with a horrified look in his eyes. "What?" He paused for a second. "Wait, are you muggleborn?"

Defensively, the brown-haired boy nodded. The blond boy's expression grew less horrified, and more acknowledging. "Oh, that makes sense. What's your name?"

"Clint Barton," he responded back shortly. The blond boy nodded enthusiastically, "Great, nice to meet you! And I'm Thor Odinson."

He turned to Tony with an excited look in his expression. "Are you muggleborn too?"

"Naw, I'm a half-blood. Dad's a wiz, and my mom's a muggle," Tony said.

"I come from a pureblood family," Thor responded, a bit proudly. "I also got a brother, but no one remembers him for some weird reason and my parents are really-"

"Thor, we don't need to hear your life story," Tony interrupted.

Thor looked a bit crestfallen, but then Clint spoke up again. "What do you even use brooms for anyways?"

He immediately perked up. "Wizards use brooms for flying, and the best brooms are for a game called Quidditch, it's quite fun. Don't muggles use brooms for cleaning up rooms? That's honestly kind of inconvenient, 'cause in the wizarding world, you don't have to worry about dust. House elves can help out with that. Anyways…"

Tony carefully edged away from Thor, because he kind of didn't want to hear about Quidditch (why waste time riding on a long piece of stick smacking a ball around?) and walked off with a quick, "Got to go, see you at Hogwarts."

Thor stopped rambling to say a cheerful goodbye, and Clint waved back at him before they continued their conversation.

He turned the corner, and then another, trying to find something else cool to goggle over, before he turned yet another corner and found… a really dim alleyway? A dingy sign in the corner read in bold letters "Knockturn Alley."

He held back a shiver, gazing at the creepy buildings framing the street. There was just a sort of an uneasy atmosphere that permeated every corner. Even the lights on the street were dark and menacing, with its flickering monstrous shadows on the cobblestone paths.

Before he could turn back to Diagon Alley with its crowded streetways and bright atmosphere, a hand landed his shoulder. He jumped, and whipped around.

An old hag grinned at him with crooked, yellowed teeth. "Little boy, do you want to see my shop?"

The "little boy" was a huge turn off, and he internally winced. He wasn't eight or anything, he was _eleven_ , which was old enough. Tony tried to back away, but her hand on his shoulder was unmoving. "I don't go into creepy shops with weird women. But thanks for the offer!"

The grin on her face slowly began dropping into a morose frown. Insistently, she said, "But you must! We have so much good offers to give you. Fifty percent off on a goblin's hand, twenty percent off on You-Know-Who's piece of his robe."

Tony frowned, "But what if I _don't_ know who? What is with his weird name?"

The hag stared at him disbelievingly, before tugging on his shoulder.

"Nu uh uh, I'm not going with you, creepy lady. How about you turn back, and we can both pretend to be on our merry ways before I call the aurors on you."

The hag snickered, and dragged him across the cobblestone. Then, being the gentleman he was, he kicked her shin hard and tried to run off. The amused look in her eyes vanished, and she bared her teeth before grabbing the end of his robes. "Insolent boy. You're coming with me now."

"Insolent boy? You're the one trying to kidnap me, lady," he spat, as she pulled him across the street, in front of a store.

He was seriously considering pulling out his wand, and smacking her in the face with it or saying "figgly jiggly" while waving it around before someone across the street called out, "Hey!"

The hag stopped, and Tony breathed out a sigh of relief, hand clutching his wand inside his pocket. A moment later, a scrawny boy dashed up to them with a stern look in his eyes.

"Ma'am, I insist on letting go of him right now."

The hag laughed, and responded back in a sweet voice, "And why should I? I found him first."

That was pretty creepy. Tony scowled and kicked the ground, while the other boy blinked. "My dad's coming right now. If you don't let go of him, it's not going to be pleasant."

"And why is that?" the hag said, smiling condescendingly.

"My dad's an auror."

The hag hesitated, and in that second, a man ran up the street, huffing, "Steve, what are you doi-" before skidding to a stop. Tony felt the hag let go of his robes as she saw the man draw his wand. Then, she scuttled off into her shop with a curse, muttering grumpily under her breath.

Stupid old hags.

The man rushed up to them. "Are you both okay?"

"Fine," Tony said curtly.

Both the boy named Steve and his dad gave him a look. "I was doing perfectly fine before you came, but- thanks anyways," he grudgingly muttered to Steve.

"You didn't seem too fine when you were being dragged off," he pointed out. Tony snorted, "That was part of the plan."

"Sure it was." Steve said, raising an eyebrow.

Steve's father let out a snort of amusement. "That's enough kids. Where are your parents?" he directed at Tony, putting the wand back in his coat pocket. "You shouldn't really be wandering through the streets with Black on the loose."

He winked, "As my boss always says, 'Constant vigilance.'"

"My dad's in the apothecary," Tony said, sighing inwardly. His father was going to be absolutely delighted seeing him with two other strangers.

* * *

As Tony gave a small wave to Steve and his father walking out of the apothecary, Howard sighed next to him. "Why do you have to always go looking for trouble?"

Don't sound too bitter, don't sound too bitter, don't sound too-

"Well, I didn't exactly choose to be kidnapped by a crazy hag."

That failed.

His father glanced at him sharply, frowning. "You know what I mean. That Steve kid, he was responsible. You, on the other hand, are not."

Tony laughed bitterly, "Thanks for your kind words. I appreciate it a ton."

"You don't understand," his father snapped back, rubbing his forehand with a hand. "I want you to grow up to be a person like Steve, who's responsible and helpful to other people. You saw how he helped you, right? That's what a good person does."

"Obviously I would go help someone if they actually needed help," Tony hissed back, maybe a bit too loudly. The owner of the potion store glanced up at both of them, and Howard gave him an apologetic glance, before glaring at Tony.

"Quiet down. I just want you to be better, alright? It's for your own good."

"Yes, _dad_ ," Tony spat back, a bit more quietly this time. "Of course becoming like the legendary Steve what's-his-last-name is my final goal in life. He's my absolute idol, and me being the person who invented a ton of potions should obviously go and lick his feet because he is that _amaz_ -"

"Enough," Howard said exasperatedly. "You know what I'm talking about."

"It's all you talk about," Tony mumbled, quietly rubbing the wand in his back pocket. He stared at the gooey eyes in the bucket right across from him, wondering what would happen if he grabbed a handful and decided to chuck it at the store window.

"Because it's true," Howard sighed again. "Let's go home… we both had a long day."

More like _I_ had a long day, Tony thought bitterly, and you had a day of staring at dead animal guts. But didn't say it out loud because then, the argument might go on for five years.

He was absolutely _done_ with hearing that he had to get better. He already had a plan, and it wasn't like his father was ever going to ever accept him before he actually accomplished being the best.

Yeah sure, he knew he was good. But being better… first magic and explosions, and then acceptance.

Instead, he shortly said, "Fine."

Then on a second thought, he casually asked his father, "Did you get your wand from Ollivanders too?"

Howard looked at him strangely as he opened the door to walk out, "I did, why?"

"Nothing."

* * *

 **This was a super fun chapter to make; Diagon Alley is so interesting, and there are so many shops and magical things to write about. And of course, it's the first time Harry meets Tony, so that was entertaining to think about too. Anyways, thank you all for the favs, follows, and reviews!**

 **I actually did make a list of wands on what each Avenger would have gotten. It's pretty interesting to think about, especially since there are so much "personalities" with the woods and cores and flexibility of each wand. With Tony, I thought the walnut wand would be fitting, and then researched more about it and found out that Bellatrix also had it. Did you guys know that really short wands (like less than 9 inches) actually mean that there's something lacking with the owner's personality? Which makes so much sense, since Umbridge has an 8 inch wand, and she's really a disgusting lady.**

 **Reviews:**

 **yournucleardeterrent** **: Thanks a ton! I do have a bunch of plans with this storyline, so I'll most likely be continuing to write during the school year too. The updates definitely won't be too often though, prob once every one or two weeks because it's going to be a very busy year for me. Glad you do enjoy it though!**

 **Presgamer1 : I understand what you mean, Tony's definitely a really hard character to get down. I tried to flesh out more if his "daddy issues" in the first chapter mainly since it's going to be one of his main motivations moving in the story, but yeah, he def should be a bit more cocky. Hopefully I improved on that in this chapter with his sarcasm and such. In this storyline, he's more of a "yeah I know I'm good" attitude, but he wants to be _better_ , if that makes sense lol. More of a super ambitious dude. Anyways, thanks for your comment, appreciate your help!**


	3. The Train

**Chapter 3: The Train**

A whistle pierced the air, as smoke began pouring out of the scarlet train's top. Tony groaned under his breath, breaking into a run.

He accidentally overslept because he stayed up late yesterday working on a potion that turned a person hot pink. It didn't help that his father completely forgot that he was going to Hogwarts, so no one was even ready to take him to the train platform.

Needless to say, the morning was pretty chaotic. He was pretty sure that he broke the world record of eating the most amount of waffles in one minute (fifteen to be exact), and it was the first time he saw his father without his tie in public.

Racing past waving parents, he sprinted towards the train that was beginning to pull away. Right as he was about to lose hope, a hand poked out of the doorway. He grabbed it, and the mysterious person pulled him on the train with a grunt.

Huffing, Tony managed to let out a mumbled, "Thanks."

"No problem," the person said, letting go. As Tony was trying to catch his breath, he glanced up to look at the stranger.

He narrowed his eyes. "I've seen you before."

His savior had curly brown hair, and was nervously tapping a hand on the wall. Ignoring the boy's disbelieving glance, Tony analyzed him carefully. Something about green mist…

"You're the guy who had the gassy wand!" he said triumphantly.

The boy spluttered indignantly, "Excuse me?"

"Yea, at Ollivanders," Tony insisted, waving his arms around. "Something like a willow wand, unicorn hair core, blah blah-"

A new voice said, "Why are you talking about my wand?" Both Tony and the boy whirled around to see the redhead that chased the ginger cat in Diagon Alley walking in, dragging Harry and what was probably Hermione with him.

The curly-hair boy shrugged a shoulder, "That's my wand he's talking about, although I have no idea why he even remembers." He threw Tony an amused look.

Tony cheerfully grinned at the boy, before waving to Harry, "Yo, Voldy-Slayer."

He swore that Harry mumbled, "Not again." under his breath, before he tiredly raised a hand to wave back. The redhead gaped at Tony.

"Did you just-"

"Call him Voldy-Slayer? At least it's better than the Boy-Who-Lived. Like seriously Pippi, you would think grown men would think of better names," Tony interrupted.

"My name's Ron, not Pippi," the redhead frowned.

Tony waved his words away, "Ron, kablon, same thing. Pippi works, 'cause you have the same red-hair that Pippi Longstocking has or whatever."

At this point, poor Harry looked like he would rather jump off the train then listen to this conversation, while the curly-hair boy looked a bit constipated. Hopefully it was because he was trying to hold back his laughter, not because he needed to go to the bathroom.

On the other hand, the bushy-hair girl just stared at him analytically, while Ron muttered something like "bloody git," under his breath. Suddenly, she said, "You're not from around here, right?"

"What do you mean?" Tony asked, confused.

"Your choice of words are strange," she said. "And you're so flippant about everything. But you don't have an American accent, which I would imagine would be the case…" she trailed off, staring curiously at him.

"I'm Tony Stark," he stated bluntly. "How can I not be from London."

A flash of recognition flashed through Hermione's eyes. "Oh, you're the son of Howard Stark! He's in loads of potions books, like…"

An awkward pause, as everyone stared at Hermione. She flushed pink.

"That's odd. I don't remember which book." Frowning, she narrowed her eyes at him. "I usually always remember the source."

Harry sighed, and tugged on her arm. "I really need to talk to you both in private." He shot a meaningful glance at Ron, who shrugged. "Sorry about that, we'll be going now."

He nearly dragged Hermione to find the next empty compartment, who still looked like she was lost in thought. Ron trailed after him grumpily, still mumbling about "idiotic blokes who don't respect red-hair."

Tony turned to the curly-hair boy, who was leaning against the wall, choking on laughter. In between breaths, the boy huffed out, "Does that- that always- happen?"

Tony just shrugged. "I was bored."

The boy just burst into another fit of giggles, while Tony awkwardly stood there, watching. Suddenly, he asked, "What's your name?"

Still grinning, the boy said, "Bruce."

"Well, Brucie-bear, I like you. And people I like usually get dragged wherever I go, so we're going to have fun."

He grabbed his wrist, absentmindedly taking note of Bruce's nearly unnoticeable flinch, before dragging him off to find a compartment.

In the end, they settled on a nearly empty compartment where another redhead girl sat (probably related to Ron), talking to a rather pudgy boy in the corner. Tony plopped down on one of the comfy cushions as Bruce sat down cautiously across from him.

He eyed the two mischievously, jabbing Bruce softly in the ribs. "Do you think hot pink suits them?"

Wide-eyed, Bruce whispered back, "Uh… are you sure what you're planning is safe?"

"You already know me so well," Tony said, wiping away an imaginary tear. "But it should be around eighty-five percent safe."

"And the other fifteen percent?" Bruce asked nervously.

"Chance to create an amazing explosion, but whatever, that doesn't matter," Tony cheerfully replied. Ignoring Bruce's protests, he uncovered his vial of hot-pinkness with a flourish.

"Anyways, this can't come off with water, or soap, or basically anything. You have to wait until the end of the next three hours before the pink fades away. It's otherwise known as pure genius in a bottle"

Bruce groaned, and covered his eyes. "Why did I choose to sit with you."

"You didn't. I made you sit with me," Tony cheerfully corrected as he carefully transferred the potion into one of those rubber ball-things (muggles used it for birthday parties, but he decided to snatch a couple for his own plans).

Very slowly, he lifted his ball, and aimed it at the two unaware victims. Bruce let out another groan, and put his head into his arms, mumbling something about having insane classmates and dying before the school year even started.

Quietly, he whispered, "Boom," as he chucked the ball filled with his potion.

All right, maybe he _was_ hoping it was going to explode. Just a teensy-bit.

The ball soared into the air, and popped open on the awkward boy's face, splattering the potion everywhere. The redhead girl yelped, and scooted backwards fruitlessly, but it was too late. Both of them were covered in hot pink.

Tony cackled evily as the two sent murderous glares towards him, which looked especially out of place out on the boy's face. Bruce lifted his head to give them both an apologetic glance, which was slightly ruined by the grin on his face.

"Merlin's underpants, why would you do that?" the girl angrily said, trying to wipe the color off her robes.

The boy groaned, staring at his reflection in the mirror. "At least you didn't get any on your face, Ginny," he said glumly, looking at his hot pink face.

The compartment door slid open again, as a scrawny blond boy dashed in, a familiar-looking wand in his hand. "I heard someone scre-"

He skidded to a stop, staring at the Ginny and the boy with a flabbergasted look on his face. "What happened to you two?"

Ginny snorted, waving accusingly at Tony. "That idiot over there thought it was a good idea to splat pink on poor Neville's face."

"I was bored," Tony mumbled rebelliously, looking up at the scrawny boy. Then he widened his eyes, and said, " _Steve?_ "

It really was a small world.

"Oh, you're that kid I rescued," Steve said, rolling the wand around in his hands. Tony just snorted. "You wish you did, Captain Goody-Two-Shoes."

Bruce gave him a weird look, presumably because Tony wasn't looking too pleased about seeing Steve. And yeah, he might still be a little bit annoyed by the whole praise thing his father gave Steve, but whatever, he didn't care. No biggie.

Eying Steve's wand, Tony frowned again. "Wait, what wand did you get?"

Steve twirled his wand like it was a baton. "Ash wood, unicorn hai-"

"Are you absolutely _kidding_ me."

Everyone in the compartment looked at him. He sighed. "Of course, you get the wand that so happened to burn me when I tried to use it. Thanks a lot, _fate_ , I appreciate your concern."

Like really… Steve got his dad and the wand? Was there a being in the heavens trying to mock him or something, because he was not delighted.

Alright, he was definitely salty about the whole business.

Steve looked down at his wand incredulously, before giving a huff a laughter. "Best wand ever."

"Nu uh, Cap, my wand is definitely better than yours," Tony said, crossing his arms together stubbornly. "I've already exploded something within the first five seconds of getting it."

"Of course you would," Steve mumbled, slipping the wand back into his pocket. Ginny leaned across to whisper in Neville's ear. It must have been something terrifying, because immediately, Neville paled and stared at Tony horrified.

"Did you meet the twins yet?" he asked, hesitantly.

"The twins?" Tony said, glancing over to Bruce, who just shrugged. If possible, Neville paled even more.

"This year is going to be _terrible_ ," he mumbled under his breath, slipping down in his seat. Sympathetically, Ginny patted his shoulder.

"At least that doesn't mean that he's corrupted yet."

Neville groaned. "But that's the point. They're just going to corrupt him more, and we'll end up with three people on our backs."

Tony perked up, with a grin on his face that promised certain doom. Steve backed away slowly, muttering something about needing to go back to retrieve something (and possibly never come back), before the trolley came in bearing snacks.

"Please sit back down until all the snacks are served," the lady behind the trolley smiled at Steve, letting Neville and Ginny pick the snacks they wanted. She did do a double-take when she saw Neville's face though, who just blushed.

"I guess I'll stay here for a bit," Steve sighed, before sitting down as far as possible from Tony, looking at his Chocolate Frog morosely. Tony just snickered, and consumed his Caldron Cake as fast as possible, offering one to Bruce. "Want one?"

"Sure," Bruce said, reaching over to take a cake.

* * *

Around the afternoon, when the hot pink started to slowly fade away from Neville and Ginny, and the clouds decided to start drizzling, four people barged into the compartment. The person at the front looked like a blond prat, surrounded by two goons. Strangely enough, they were tailed by a smaller looking girl.

Sleepily, Tony opened an eye to watch the blond boy with the presumptuous atmosphere prance around, snickering at the still slightly pink Neville.

"Nice hair, Longbottom," he said smugly. Neville just let out a squeak.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ginny growled back. On the other side of the train, Tony watched Steve sit up with a scornful look on his face that was directed to the blond boy.

The Malfoy guy let out a shrug. "I'm just here for Potter. You, blood-traitor, know where he is?" he spat back at Ginny.

Ginny didn't respond, glaring back at him stubbornly. After a moment, Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, I'll look for him myself. Goyle, Crabbe…" he hesitated. The slight girl with the dark-red hair elegantly raised an eyebrow.

"Natalie Rushman."

"-Rushman, follow me."

The girl snorted, sweeping past him, and shutting the door with a snap. Malfoy and his goons stood there for a second, mouths hanging open, before following after her.

Ginny looked at the still-swinging door uneasily. "I've never seen that girl before."

Neville yawned, still looking embarrassed by his pink hair, "She's probably one of those Slytherin girls. Like Pansy Parkinson. But she doesn't look like a pug."

Steve spoke up, frowning. "She didn't look like she belonged there."

"What, you fancy her?" Tony lazily looked up, smirking. Steve scowled, but not before a blush spread across his face. Beside him, Bruce stirred, still fast asleep.

"No," he answered shortly. "But Malfoy and his group seemed like a bunch of bullies."

"And she wasn't?" Ginny said.

Steve frowned again. "It's not just that. The way she walked-" he mimicked her graceful pose, "-just didn't seem like she was really part of the goons."

"She's more snake-like," Tony bluntly said.

Steve nodded, giving him a grateful glance. Ginny and Neville looked at them curiously.

"Malfoy always seemed to be the one who would rather have muscle around him, despite the whole Slytherin house attitude," she mused thoughtfully. "That is pretty weird."

Neville just sighed. "Hopefully she isn't as bad as them."

A second later, Natalie stormed out, muttering curse words in what seemed like a different language (German? Russian?), while Malfoy and his goons tailed behind her meekly.

"Trying to pick a fight when there's a teacher is one of the stupidest actions ever. You should be glad I don't murder you all for your carelessness."

Malfoy tried to protest, and said, "But Potter was right ther-"

She whirled on him, spitting. "Are you a Gryffindor or Slytherin? Seriously, use your brain, you идиот."

She kicked open the next compartment door, and walked out, leaving the three boys speechless. Turning red, Malfoy looked around, scowled, and gestured to the other two. "Let's go," he mumbled.

They left. Then Ginny said, wide-eyed, "I thought she was in her first-year."

Neville nodded. "Pretty sure she is. I've never seen her before."

"Then how was she able to boss around Malfoy? I've seen sixth-year Slytherins fail at what she just did."

Tony shared a look with Steve, before looking out the foggy landscape out the window again. "She's different."

"Oh really. I never guessed that," Ginny said sarcastically.

* * *

The storm grew worse. Tony could hear the wind howling outside, as the rain pounded on the glass windows. Dark shapes moved outside, and he involuntarily shivered.

Bruce woke up, blinking blearily as another particularly big blast of wind battered the train. "What's going on?"

Tony shrugged, looking outside the window. "It's storming."

Neville said nervously, "Is it just me, or is the train slowing down?"

Steve stopped fiddling with his wand, looking up. "It definitely is."

The train slowly screeched to a stop, as the wind howled even louder. Ginny stood up, her face serious. "Something's wrong."

As she stood up, the lights in the train went out. The only light came from the gray skies, pale from the moon's faint glow. If possible, the storm wailed even louder, as the wind rocked the train back and forth.

"Could it be Black?" Ginny's voice echoed eerily in the darkness. Bruce responded quietly, "That's impossible, unless he was a really good wizard. The wards on the train are literally unbreakable."

"We should still check up on Harry," Neville said, his voice shaking.

He could see blurry shapes get up, and start walking out of the compartment. Nudging Bruce, he muttered, "Should we go too?"

Bruce whispered back, "Probably. The more the people, the safer. Steve?"

Steve's voice came from the darkness. "I agree. Let's go."

Slowly, Tony felt his way through the train, and trudged through the still open compartment doors. He could feel Bruce breathing down his back behind him, and Steve's steady footsteps.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, as a cold breeze whisked through the corridor.

"Are we almost there yet?" Bruce said softly.

"I think so," Tony responded, shivering. As they passed through the last door, Tony tripped over a foot in the aisle. He tumbled forward, crashing into other people. Behind him, he felt Bruce fall on top of him.

Tasting the griminess of the cold floor, Tony made a disgusted face. " I did not sign up to eat the ground."

"Wait, are you that weird kid?"

"Voldy-Slayer?"

"Why are you here?"

"That was my foot."

"Your foot shouldn't have been in the aisle."

"Who's that?"

"Why did you follow us?"

"Wait, is that you Ginny?"

"Ron?"

"Stop stepping on my foot!"

A hoarse voice cut through the ruckus like a knife through melted butter. "Quiet!"

Everyone fell silent, as a face appeared in the darkness, illuminated by a palmful of flames. The weight on top of him finally got up, and Tony sat up, groaning.

"Bruce, I never knew you were so heavy."

The man holding the flames looked at him sternly, and he quieted down, muttering, "Alright."

"Everyone, don't move." The man quietly edged towards the compartment door. But before he could get there, something else appeared first.

He heard Steve gasp like he was dunked in a bucket of cold water when the hooded figure emerged from the darkness. The cloak was tattered, like a hobo's blanket, but the _thing_ underneath it was slimy and scaly and-

 _You'll never be the best._

Howard's voice mumbled in his head as he flinched, clutching his head in his hands. The hooded figure slid closer, making a rattling sound under its cloak.

 _Be better. Be better. Be better. Be better._

In the corner of his eye, he could see Harry slip down, his eyes rolled up in his head. Bruce was shivering next to him, flinching from an invisible assailant.

Hopelessness dripped through every pore of his body, until he only felt coldness and darkness. There was nothing he could do, he couldn't save them, not from the aliens, nor the-

As if something peeled back to reveal more memories, flashes of images popped up. The stars, the coldness of the other planets, the large metal creatures that he'd never seen before, but somehow looked so familiar. A beautiful red-haired woman hanging from steel beams, looking desperate. A man filled with bullets gazing sightlessly at the sky, framed in a background of fire.

A small boy fading into ash.

It was hopeless.

He couldn't do it.

The dark figure in front of him flinched, wisps of red surrounding it. Faintly, he heard the man with the flaming hand mutter calmly, "We are not hiding Black on this train. Go."

A bright, silvery creature emerged out of the man's wand, and rushed towards the figures. They finally fled, sweeping out of the compartment. After a few seconds, the lights flickered back on, illuminating everyone's face in a pale glow.

In a daze, he watched everyone stare at each other with lingering traces of terror. For some reason, his hand was scrabbling at his chest, as if he couldn't breathe. As if there was something stuck into it.

 _Something with a blue glow that kept the shards away from his heart._

Ron was slapping Harry's face frantically, who was on the ground, motionless.

"Harry! Are you alright?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bruce taking a gulp of air, eyes unnaturally bright. But his fists were clenched together, tighter than Tony had ever seen them before. He swore he saw a flash of green in his eyes, before Bruce seemed to crumple back within himself.

In the corner, Steve was looking at nothing, shivering and mumbling. Ginny let out a choked sob in her seat, curling up on herself with her red hair framing her face.

He still couldn't breathe.

"Professor Lupin?"

It was Hermione, who was looking at Harry frantically. "Will Harry be alright?"

The professor (that made so much more sense than a random hobo lying on the train), gazed at Harry with sad eyes. Tiredly, he answered, "He will be. Just wait a few more moments."

His sharp eyes flashed to the rest of the group, before widening slightly.

Steve was still mumbling to himself in the corner, and Bruce was still holding his head in his hands, strangely motionless. Neville, white and trembling, was trying to calm an equally hysterical Ginny, while Ron was still trying to slap Harry awake.

He himself was gulping in large amounts of air, trying to ignore the chill that settled in his bones. His hand was still pressed against his chest, and the strange images in his head bounced around like ping-pong balls.

 _And a hand reached inside his chest, while the once-friendly eyes raked over him like he was just a piece of broken machinery in a store._

He bent over, coughing and spitting, trying to get some sort of air, because he was going to _suffocate_ and he couldn't get any _air_. Vaguely, he felt a piece of chocolate shoved in his hand. "Eat this."

Numbly, he brought the brown square to his mouth and took a bite, feeling the sweetness spread across his tongue. A feeling of warmth swept through his entire body, and in his mind's eye, he could see something like a sparkly red curtain snapping shut, hiding the images that the hooded figures produced.

With a last shaky gulp of air, he stopped clutching his chest, wincing at the scratches he'd somehow inflicted during the haze of panic. Looking up, he saw Steve collapse on a chair, still pale, and Bruce chomp away on the chocolate quietly. Even Harry was sitting up with a piece of chocolate in hand, pale and sweaty.

Professor Lupin looked at the compartment critically, before nodding to himself. "I'm going to speak with the driver, excuse me."

He swept out of the carriage, leaving the shaken students behind.

Harry's voice was small when he asked, "Did you guys hear screaming?"

Hermione softly said, "No."

Ron added with a shiver, "But I did feel like I wasn't going to ever be happy again. It was weird."

Neville nodded, stiffly, a hand on Ginny's shoulder. Ginny let out a sob next to him, as Hermione wrapped an arm around her.

Ron continued, voice still wavering slightly. "You fell into a fit or something, and slipped to the ground. Even started twitching."

"Did no one else… fall off their chairs?" Harry said, looking embarrassed.

Hermione looked at Harry worriedly. "Not really. But everyone was affected."

"It was really cold," Steve said quietly. Bruce winced, but said nothing.

Tony muttered, "Never want to experience that again."

The rest of the train ride was filled with silence, even when Professor Lupin slipped back inside with more chocolate to hand out. Tony barely stirred when the train started to slow down in earnest, watching the majestic castle come into view.

Even when images were hidden away, the feeling still lingered. All he wanted to do was focus on taking deep breaths of cool air.

He didn't have a hole in his chest. He wasn't in the vacuum of space.

 _Breathe in, breathe out._

* * *

 **And the dementors are introduced to the group! Interestingly, Tony and Bruce don't know that the "hooded figures" are dementors, because they haven't heard about them before. Steve does, and obviously the rest of the group (because of Azkaban, and Black going after Harry), but not the other two.**

 **Btw, Bruce's wand does have the same wood type and core as Ron's current wand. They don't have the same personalities, but willow wands are generally kept for healing (and I could imagine Bruce tryna take care of all the crazy Avengers), and usually hint that the owner has a bit of insecurity. Totally makes sense with Ron, but I feel like that is shown though Bruce in a different way, with his unwillingness to trust the green guy. Ironically, Steve's wand has the same wood type and core as Ron's FIRST wand (before it got broken by the Whomping Willow) and this quote from Pottermore, "The ideal owner may be stubborn, and will certainly be courageous, but never crass or arrogant," fits 100% with Steve. And yes, Tony got burned because he is very arrogant lol, and the wand really didn't like him.**

 **Away from my wand ranting, thank you all whoever faved, followed, and reviewed! Every time someone comments, it keeps me encouraged to write more.**

 **Review:**

 **holyghostofsteve** **: Thanks for reviewing! And yes, I completely agree with you haha. The sanest thing to do would never let Tony and the twins meet, but I'm not exactly sane, so... mwhahaha.**


	4. The Sorting

**Chapter Four: The Sorting**

"Firs' years, this way!"

The train had finally stopped for real this time. Outside, a hulking figure draped in a giant raincoat was waving his arms outside. Harry brightened up for the first time since the hooded figures came.

"That's Hagrid. He's not as intimidating as he looks." Harry said amusedly, spotting Steve's wide-eyed stare. Embarrassed, Steve turned red, and looked away.

"That's sure a lot of hamburgers he chowed down," Tony muttered absentmindedly, as he got up from his seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione give him another weird look, as he grabbed Bruce's hand and dragged him up.

"Is that some sort of Muggle food?" Ron asked.

Tony snorted as he walked out the compartment, pulling Bruce along with him. "You haven't lived if you never tried a cheeseburger, Pippi." With his other free hand, he waved at Steve. "Captain Goody-Two-Shoes, let's go."

Behind him, he could hear Steve let out a disparaging sigh, before following him. Before the compartment door swung closed, Bruce offered, "Nice meeting you all?"

Someone (it sounded like Ginny) let out a snort of laughter as the door swung shut.

"And why exactly, did you want me here?" Steve caught up to Tony, an eyebrow raised. Tony kept on strolling towards the train doors, but grinned back.

"You're not escaping from me that easily. We're gonna become wizards, and you think I'm going to keep this peaceful and chaos-free?"

Steve paled, as Bruce gave him a sympathetic pat on the back with his free hand.

By the time they went outside, a small crowd had already formed around Hagrid. Tony even spotted a dash of Natalie's bright red hair before it got drowned out by more black cloaks and nervous faces.

"Firs' years, follow me! Mind yer step, c'mon."

Hagrid gave one last final wave, before trudging through the narrow path. Tony could feel Steve pressed up against him while Bruce disappeared into the small crowd.

"Comfortable?" Tony smirked, glancing back. Then he tripped over a root, and nearly catapulted over the mob of students.

Maybe, just maybe, he should keep his attention on the path.

Whatever.

He glanced back again to see Steve holding back a grin of amusement. "This is the last place that I would consider comfortable," Steve muttered.

"Even if I'm here?"

" _Especially_ since you're here," Steve let out a huff of laughter. Tony put a hand to his chest in mock-accusation. "You've wounded me. Right here." He jabbed at his chest again, then lost his balance and tripped over another student. But this time, he didn't catch his balance.

With a suspicious-sounding manly yelp, he tumbled into the person in front of him. Faintly, he could hear Steve shout in surprise as the person in front of him stumbled, and fell onto the next person.

And the next.

By the time Tony stopped being a flailing ball of human arms and legs, he collapsed into a pile of the other unfortunate students. Hagrid was standing before them, looking a bit annoyed.

"Yeh bunch shoulda bin more careful."

He definitely sounded exasperated. Tony lifted his head to give Hagrid a weak smile (just in case he liked to eat first-years who misbehaved) before he groaned and dropped his head. Being nice took way too much effort.

From his slightly blurred vision, he could see Steve cautiously make his way down the steep path, before he stopped in surprise at the mini-pile of humans Tony was lying on. Behind him, Bruce appeared in the darkness, chatting quietly with- wait… was that Natalie?

He felt a surge of accomplishment as both of them froze when seeing the pile. Bruce shook his head in mock disbelief when he spotted Tony sprawled on top. Tony lifted an arm and waved back cheerfully.

Then a huge arm scooped him up, and dumped him ungracefully on the ground, and Hagrid began sorting out the students lying on the ground. Sitting up, Tony finally glanced up at the towering castle before him, surrounded by a gloomy-looking lake.

He mumbled, "We're here already?"

Apparently Hagrid overheard him, as he cupped his large hands around his mouth, and shouted, "Firs' years, get inter a boat. No more'n four a boat."

With that said, Hagrid began picking up the last remaining students lying on the ground. Tony stumbled up, and walked over to the three still hovering near the path. As he came closer, he spotted Natalie give him an emotionless look, before slipping away.

Bruce met him with a suspiciously large grin. "Did you have fun?"

Both Steve and Bruce burst into laughter as Tony gave them a decidedly grumpy look. Ignoring them, he looked around the lake. "Did Hagrid mention anything about boats?"

He trailed off as he watched a few boats appear from the low-hanging fog on the lake. As the boats slowed down, he winced.

They were tiny, wooden, and looked like they could hardly hold Hagrid himself.

He muttered, horrified, "Do they expect us to get into _that_?"

Already, Hagrid was awkwardly fitting himself into a boat. Tony grimaced again as the students began swarming towards the mini-boats. A vague thought about water sprung into his head, with dingy caves and a hole in his chest, before he shook it off.

Someone was trembling besides him.

He looked to his right to see Steve's pale face, staring at the lake. His eyes were strangely unfocused.

"Cap, you good?"

Bruce was already a couple steps in front of them, and turned back questionly. Steve's eyes cleared up, and he shook his head like he was trying to forget something.

"It's nothing." He gazed back at the water cautiously. "I just don't… like cold water."

Ignoring his own misgivings, Tony clapped a hand across Steve's back. "It'll just be a couple of nightmarish minutes and then you'll be off to candy land."

He walked towards Bruce, frowning again at the boats floating in the water. "Let's get this over with."

Bruce glanced at Steve weirdly, before leaning in towards Tony. "What's up with him?"

"He doesn't like cold water," Tony said, shrugging. It wasn't like he could judge, because he could already feel a cold pit of horror swimming in his stomach. Maybe it was because of the ratty boats, or maybe it was because of the deep expanse of water. He couldn't tell.

He plastered a grin on his face, and shoved the feeling deep into his stomach. "Up aboard, gentlemen."

They all gingerly slid into a boat. But before they could sail off, another figure came running towards them, panting.

"Wait, wait, wait. I'm joining you guys."

Tony narrowed his eyes as the stranger catapulted into the boat (without permission, how dare him). "Weren't you in Diagon Alley, asking about broom sweepers? Clout or something?"

Maybe-Clout turned towards him as their boat jerked off the shore and swiftly began following Hagrid's boat. Steve gave an audible gulp besides him.

"Yeah, I was with Thor. Name's Clint, not Clout. Never caught your name though."

"I'm Tony, that's Bruce, and that's Steve," Tony said, shortly. "Pleasantries done, let's talk about something that isn't as boring."

It might have been a bit rude, but he didn't care. He could feel the water bumping the wooden boat beneath him, and it was scaring the hell out of him. It didn't help that Steve was unnaturally tense besides him, staring at the water.

"So anything that isn't about you," Clint shot back, an eyebrow raised.

Tony just gave him a tense smile

"Alright," Clint sighed. "Anyways, I was going to sit with Thor, but you saw how big he is, and I didn't exactly want to be a squashed muffin for the rest of the ride. So I hopped here."

Curiously, he looked at Steve, and gestured with to him thumb. "Any reason why you don't like the water?"

Steve muttered, "It's cold."

"... Alright?"

After a few minutes, Bruce broke the awkward silence, wringing his hands. "Did you see the weird hooded figures on the train?"

"Oh that." Clint shivered slightly, as their boat swerved into a curtain of ivy under a cliff. "I was actually on top of the train, so it wasn't too bad, since they didn't seem to notice me. But they were still creepy."

Tony glanced at him in surprised. "You what?"

"Bad habit of sitting in weird places," Clint said, a bit smugly. "Anyways, there are openings to the top of the train, but they're covered in magic and sparkles, so it's hard to spot."

A brief pause, as they looked around the dark tunnel they were drifting through. "Do you like pranks?" Tony asked suddenly.

Startled, Clint looked back, before his expression cleared to something devious. "How does anyone not like pranks?"

Both of them grinned at each other as Bruce and Steve groaned. Their boat slowly slid to a stop on a pebbled shore. Ahead of them, Hagrid awkwardly climbed out before he hollered, "Listen up, yeh all. Follow me, an' I 'spect yeh to be careful this time."

"We're going on a trip, in our favorite rocket ship-"

"Tony." Bruce shushed him.

With a sigh, Tony clambered up shakily, inaudibly letting out a breath of relief at being on solid land again. A few yards away, Steve looked like he was going to kiss the ground. "We need an intro song."

"You suck at singing," Clint huffed, looking amused.

"You traitor."

* * *

The rest of the trip was honestly uneventful. There were just more stairs, even more rocks, and the sound of loud breathing. Whoever thought that having a million stairs was a good idea must have been absolutely bonkers. Even Hagrid was a bit out of breath, when he reached the top to knock on the fancy oak door signaling the entrance to Hogwarts.

Wheezing, Tony watched a dumpy looking lady open the doors. Her face lit up with one of those nice old grandmother-y expressions when she spotted the (dying) first years.

"Come in, come in!" She bustled inside, gesturing into the glowing hallways. The students all crowded inside hurriedly, ready to get out of the damp breeze.

"Hello, I'm Professor Sprout. McGonagall usually does this, but I expect she's quite busy with some other students right now."

She frowned as she looked at a wooden clock on the wall. "We're running a bit late for some reason." Someone (probably Steve) let out a cough that suspiciously sounded like "Tony's fault."

"First years, form a line. The ceremony you'll undergo will put you into either one of four houses: Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw," Professor Sprout said, as everyone hurriedly got into a line. "I'll call you all out when we've set everything up."

She disappeared outside, as all the first years began nervously muttering each other. Steve disappeared into the crowd with Clint, as people began to move around. Bruce frowned, and nudged Tony, "How do you think we'll be sorted?"

Tony shrugged. "No idea."

After a few minutes, the door creaked open again, and Professor Sprout's cheerful face poked out. "All ready? Let's go."

Tony followed the mass of students through the door and into the Great Hall. Candles were floating in the air, swaying gently in the air. He could spot Ginny, Ron, and Neville gathered at one of the four tables, talking amongst themselves.

Bruce pointed at the ceiling, whispering, "Look at that."

Tony tilted his head up, and gaped. Above him, a twinkling night sky draped across the ceiling, still covered in a few clouds. Nonetheless, the majority of the stars still glittered coldly down at him.

He shivered. "It's so big."

Big enough to engulf him in nothingness, where his calls would go unheeded, and he would drift into the empty space amongst the unfeeling stars forever. Bruce spoke back, but his voice was drowned out by a rising feeling of panic.

 _Breathe._

Tony absentmindedly nodded to whatever Bruce said, and tore his gaze from the starry ceiling. He felt a twinge of annoyance when the feeling of panic subsided. Why did everything give him weird flashbacks?

First it was the water, then it was the ceiling. Seriously, what was _wrong_ with him?

Pushing away the visions of darkness, he directed his attention to the front of the room, where a ratty old hat lay, propped up on a stool. The other first years were staring and whispering at it nervously, so he supposed it was somewhat important.

"Whoever destroys the hat first wins?" Tony whispered hopefully.

"Winning? We're Sorting Tony, why would-"

The rip in the hat opened, and Tony blinked as Bruce got cut off.

"Is the hat… _talking_?" Tony muttered. "Does it even have vocal cords?"

Next to him, he saw Bruce open his mouth, before closing it again. He couldn't help but snicker. "Congrats on getting interrupted by an inanimate object."

Bruce really did have a sharp elbow.

Rubbing his arm, he watched the hat ramble on about houses and badgers, and something else to do with bravery. It was so ridiculously boring that he could feel his eyes start to flicker shut. It didn't help that he didn't sleep much last night because of that amazing hot pink potion he created.

He let out another yawn as the hat recited something about a Slytherin having ties (or being sly, same thing), before he let his head droop down onto his chest.

Then the next thing he knew, Bruce's sharp elbow jolted him awake. Giving him a glare, Tony muttered grumpily under his breath about not getting enough beauty sleep and suing. Bruce apologetically whispered, "The hat's almost done with the song. I think they're going to begin the Sorting."

"Whatever," Tony said grumpily, watching as the hat finished speaking and a wave of applause echoed throughout the Great Hall.

Professor Sprout strolled to the front of the room to stand next to the motionless hat. Unrolling a long parchment, she offered a small smile to the squirming first years around Tony. "When I call your name, come up here and put on the hat."

"No destroying the hat," Tony heard Bruce whisper to him.

Tony just gave him a look that radiated innocence because him? Destroying hats? Why would even Bruce think he would do that? (Of course, it didn't have to do with the bet he made earlier.)

Bruce just gave him a fond, you're-not-fooling-me look, before he faced Professor Sprout again.

"Banner, Bruce!"

"Wait, what?" Bruce's eyes widened.

"Don't ruin the hat before I do," Tony muttered teasingly, before pushing him out towards the hat. Bruce stumbled before steadying himself. Turning back, he mouthed something along the lines of _you're going to regret this._

Tony just waved back cheerfully, blowing kisses towards him. He watched Bruce shake his head in amusement, before walking towards the battered hat on the stool. The hat was placed onto his head, and a minute passed before-

"RAVENCLAW!"

Tony cheered loudly with the rest of the crowd, clapping hard. In the front, Bruce slipped the hat off his head, a contemplative look on his face. When he spotted Tony's inquisitive face, he shook his head, and mouthed, _later._

He sat down at the table draped with blue curtains, immediately getting into a conversation with a silvery-blond haired girl.

"Barton, Clint!"

From the line of first years, Clint bounced to the front of the room, grinning cheerfully.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The line of first years began shrinking as time passed by. Tony absentmindedly watched as "Odinson, Thor" strided towards the front of the room to get sorted into-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Then he tuned out the next person who nervously scampered to the front of the room.

Honestly, he just wanted the whole Sorting business to be over. His stomach was starting to grumble unhappily from the lack of food. Glancing back to the students who were watching the ceremony, he noticed them beginning to fidget around. Ron, in particular, seemed to be in great pain, clutching his stomach like he was dying.

At least, until Ginny slapped him on the shoulder. Tony held back a snicker as Ron looked back at her disbelievingly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that the dangerous-looking, "Rushman, Natalie," was sorted into "SLYTHERIN" (unsurprisingly). She gracefully strolled towards the gleeful faces of the Slytherin table, ignoring Malfoy, who was offering her a seat next to him, and sat towards the back of the table.

"Rogers, Steve!"

Steve stumbled towards the stool, pulling the hat over his head. Tony didn't think too much of it, until he realized that nothing was happening.

Nothing. Like, the hat hadn't even stirred for the past couple of minutes. Uneasily, the crowd began shifting around their seats. Tony watched as a couple of teachers began looking at Steve with interest, as another minute ticked by.

Finally, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Steve pulled off the hat, a confused expression visible on his face as he nervously walked towards the Gryffindor table. There, Thor pulled him into a hug (the most manliest hug ever, with muscles and all), as Ron and two other redhead boys clapped loudly.

"Stark, Anthony!"

Hiding any sort of unease he felt, he confidently sauntered up to the hat, flashing a peace sign at the staring students. The Sorting Hat slid onto his head, and over his eyes with a rustle of black velvet and silk.

As soon as he could only see darkness, he began mentally bombarding the hat with questions, hoping the hat wasn't just a piece of fabric sitting on his head.

Do you have vocal cords? How can you even talk? Can you look into my memories? What happens if I blow you up? Are you magically enchanted? Enchantments aren't supposed to last this long unless they were done by super powerful wizards or witches. But that would make sense, because weren't you created by the founders of Hogwarts? Or are you regularly doused in a potion everyday so you could think?

A pause. Then-

 _Oh dear._

Tony frowned inwardly. That didn't answer any of his questions. Why did the hat even say that anyways?

 _You're one of those people._

Okay, so the hat was clearing things up really nicely. Now he knew that he was one of _those_ people. Thanks hat, for your infinite wealth of knowledge.

The hat gave what seemed like a mental sigh, but didn't expand on the previous comment. _Well, it's obvious that you desire to know more. You're very curious, wanting to know more about the world, not to mention your other memories…_

Other memories of what?

The hat just ignored him, and kept musing on. _Not Hufflepuff, definitely not. You're brave, that's true, but I would probably choose you to be a-_

"RAVE-"

A pause.

Tony groaned, as the hat seemingly popped inside his head again.

 _Curious, very curious._

Can you just hurry up and choose a house already?

The hat murmured. _Your ambition is- quite the thing. I've never seen anything quite like it._

Faintly, Tony caught a glimpse of his special mantra of _just be better, be better_ , before the hat went silent. Wincing, he tried the change the topic, because he did _not_ really want to talk about Howard. He had better things to think about then his dear old dad.

Like explosions. And the fact that-

Shouldn't you have noticed that earlier?

The hat sounded apologetic as it mumbled, _Usually I sort children because they haven't developed enough memories to be very complex. That way, it's easier to sort them based on their personalities."_

Tony could hear the restless murmurs wash over the students watching, and he shifted uneasily. And?

Now, the hat sounded annoyed. _You lot with your backup memories don't make it easy for me to sift through your thoughts. It doesn't help that I keep getting swallowed up in a massive amount of information either._

Backup memories?

The hat just shifted uncomfortably on his head. _It's not within my power to say. Although I can show you-_

The sparkly red curtain that the hooded figures from train tore open shifted a bit, and suddenly Tony could spot memories that weren't his but-

A devastated mother jabbing an accusing finger on his chest.

A purple fist wearing a gauntlet with sparkling stones on each finger.

And as usual, the image of a young boy dissolving into dust.

A feeling of protectiveness rose up inside of him, and he had mentally push down the need to _protect them all, build a suit of armor around the world_ -

 _I see._

Okay, now what did you see? Or are you just not going to sort me at all?

 _You're cunning when you need to be, willing to do anything to get what you want. And even if you do have an immense hunger for knowledge, its your ambition that fuels it._

You're making me blush.

For the millionth time, the hat just ignored him. _If the stories just depict you the right way, you would be one of the most notorious villains in your world. But your motives speak for themselves. Either you're just a very unlucky hero, or a villain dressed up as one. But you would fit in with-_

"SLYTHERIN!"

Silence stretched across the Great Hall.

Quickly, the hat whispered, _I don't have much time left, but you were right. Enchantments wouldn't last very long on a normal object. The founders gave me a stone to judge who was worthy or not, and that's what was-_

The hat was pulled off of his head, and Tony blearily blinked into the sudden light. Flabbergasted faces just stared back, as whispers started to echo throughout the room. He felt someone prod him, and he looked up to see Professor Sprout motioning towards the Slytherin table.

He got up from the chair slowly, and head high, walked towards the silent Slytherin table. He watched the faces grow cold at the scarlet covered table, as Ron stared at him emotionlessly, and Ginny's once friendly face turn frigid. Even Steve was looking at him with a different look in his eyes.

He just tilted his chin higher, and skipped over to the emerald covered table defiantly, sliding into a seat next to Natalie.

Across the room, he met Bruce's eyes. A flash of relief passed through him, as Bruce offered him two thumbs down, and mouthed, _why did you break the hat?_

Tony gave him a shrug, and mouthed back, _talk to you after_. Bruce nodded, and faced back to the front of the Great Hall.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and Tony started. Malfoy shoved his face closer into Tony's, and hissed, "Slytherins don't talk to mudbloods, you idiot."

He gave a little push, and Tony swayed backwards, before catching himself in time. As Malfoy faced back forwards again, looking satisfied, Tony sighed. It was going to be a long year, he thought dully, as the Sorting Hat was carried away, and Dumbledore began saying his speech about the dementors (oh, that was what it was called) and the new teachers.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Harry and Hermione slide into their respective seats at the Gryffindor table with cheerful expressions, and morosely wondered if he could somehow switch Houses.

For some reason, the wary and suspicious eyes at the Slytherin table didn't seem too welcoming.

* * *

 **Poor Tony. He's going to have a pretty... interesting time with the Slytherins. Tbh though, I'm not too fond of the idea in the Harry Potter series that "Slytherins are all jerks and suck." It feels very stereotypical, and really not cool that Hogwarts would even have such a bad vibe about a House. Like seriously, these kids are like twelve? Eleven? How bad could they really be that young? I'm still planning on making some of them somewhat jerks, but like... you'll see later on.**

 **Btw, Steve got a Hatstall between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor if anyone was wondering. He's super brave and super loyal, so the Hat would probably have a hard time choosing for him. Honestly, he probably asked to be in Gryffindor or something after a while, since the Hat does seem to take suggestions once in a while.**

 **School's been really busy, but I'm going to try not to abandon this story. Chapters might come out slower though, but I've already mentioned that before, and hopefully it won't be too bad. Review, fav, follow if possible; seriously, every time I see someone do any of those, I get way too happy and start jumping around. I'm weird like that, haha.**

 **Review:**

 **Guest : Thanks for reviewing, this definitely motivated me! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story. Definitely not planning to abandon it since I still have a ton of ideas coming up, and hopefully, you'll stick along for the ride.**


	5. The Initiation

**Chapter Five: The Initiation**

There was just so much green.

Green flames, green couches, green everything. Morosely, Tony wondered why the Gryffindors got the best colors out of the houses. He would have killed to have a flicker of red and gold splattered on the ceiling. Instead he walked into the common room with its pale greens and sparkling emeralds, and it almost was enough to make a vegetarian vomit.

The other first-years nervously trotted besides him, pausing to gaze at the (green) stained glass with wide-open eyes. The Prefect leading them raised a dainty eyebrow.

"It's not much of a view from here," She motioned to the window with a flat smile, "our rooms are located near the dungeons, which means we're technically in the waters."

A small boy from the back of the hoard of Slytherins blurted out, "Isn't it supposed to be gloomy here?"

Immediately he blushed, as everyone turned to stare at him. The Prefect snorted dryly.

"For some reason, Slytherins are thought of as vampires. Honestly, you would think the other houses would know better than to think we drink blood and wear all black," she said. "But no, our common room is the best, simply because we've got the most secret entrances."

Another boy behind her chimed in, "Can't be a Slytherin without knowing all the secret passages." He gave everyone an exaggerated wink, looking amused at the Prefect girl's annoyed face.

She just sighed, sounding a bit fond. "Don't listen to this bloke here. Even if he brags all the time about how he's so special for being as awesome as Merlin or something, he'll get you into trouble."

Ignoring his exasperated snort, she waved at the room with a careless gesture. "You're free to hang out for the rest of the night. Tomorrow, you'll get your schedules if you're a first-year. Remember, all your bags are already in your rooms."

She stared expectantly at the crowd, who just looked back at her. She signed, before throwing her hands up. "If you don't have anything to say, then skedaddle."

The crowd dispersed, and Tony immediately collapsed into one of the puffy emerald chairs in the corner. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Natalie doing the same, looking graceful and snake-like. _Just like a true Slytherin_ , he mused blearily, trying not to pass out.

Seriously, he had to stop pulling those all-nighters.

Before he could nod off into the blissful unknown, a cool voice cut through the fogginess of his brain.

"So _Stark._ Mind telling us all what you're about?"

Tony opened one eye unwillingly, watching Malfoy materialize into existence in front of his face. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly.

"Now that's not how you should wake up a fellow friend," he yawned, trying to avoid the rising panic that was slowly enveloping him. He was way too exhausted to afford pulling another all-nighter for something as stupid as tending to injuries.

For some reason, Malfoy didn't like the yawn. He lunged forward, and stuck his face into Tony's, fist waving threatening under his nose.

"Tell me," he nearly growled. "We're Slytherins, and you go and try to change the rules by switching from those no-good Ravenclaws? And then, if that's not enough, you soil our reputation by talking to a _mudblood_?"

"Mudblood? Do you mean Bruce?"

Malfoy huffed, "Of course, what other idiot would I be talking about?"

"He's a friend," Tony muttered defensively, watching the fist warily. He was wide awake now, trying to gauge the helpfulness of the rest of the group that remained in the room. Unfortunately, they all just sat like ducks trying to lay eggs.

Another fist collided with the side of his jaw, and he hissed as the pain shot up his jaw. On the side of Malfoy, Crabbe was looking triumphant, fist pulled back from his last punch and ready to try again. Malfoy just leaned back, looking, in all purposes, like a smug cat ready to eat his next meal.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw the Prefect girl, who was still standing against the wall, slip her hand inside a pocket. Malfoy must have seen the movement also, because he swiftly pulled out his own wand to point it towards her.

The Prefect narrowed her eyes, before abandoning all subtlety. She pulled out her own wand with practiced ease that spoke of years of battling and training.

"You might have a rich daddy, but you're still a third-year," she said softly. "Trust me, there's a reason why I'm a Prefect, and it's not because I can sit around and look pretty."

But instead of panicking and running in the opposite direction like Tony would have probably done, Malfoy just looked even smugger. "And you really think that you'll be able to get away with harming me? Face it, my father has contacts that could place you in Azkaban if you just _poked_ me."

The girl froze, her wand still in a half-twitch, as if she was still contemplating if she should curse him or not. But Tony could already see the defiance sliding from her face, replaced by bland neutrality, and he knew she couldn't do anything. And the triumphant glitter in Malfoy's eyes seemed to think so too.

He went on smoothly, "Your father is Mister Carter, right? Works at the Improper Use of Magic Office?"

"What are you- this doesn't concern my dad," she hissed, glaring back.

"I've heard of him," Malfoy continued nonchalantly, twirling his wand in his fingers. "He's a smart man, a hard worker, and absolutely loves his job. I could make that disappear in a flash." He snapped his fingers, smiling vindictively. "He could be fired, shamed forever for doing something he never did. What a pity."

Her eyes glowed with fury, but Tony saw her deflate minutely. With a seemingly careless shrug, she pocketed her wand, and muttered, "Watch your back, Malfoy."

"And I'm so scared," he snickered back. But he stiffened when she whirled around and snarled back, "Do you really want to test me? I might not be mad enough yet to do something insanely stupid, but I _could_ and there's nothing stopping me."

Before Malfoy could respond, she huffed loudly, and melted into the corridors, apologetically glancing at Tony for a brief second so quick that he wasn't sure it even existed. The small crowd that gathered watched her go with a sort of morbid fascination.

"I'm just going to go now," Tony inched away from Malfoy ever so slightly. "It was nice meeting you, but maybe we could see each other at a nicer place next time?"

"Not so fast." Malfoy chided him as he whirled around and pointed his wand at Tony's throat. The tip of the wood grazed his neck, and he couldn't help but take a step backwards.

There was no way to get his own wand out in time before getting skewered. Besides, he didn't know any spells he could use yet, unless he wanted to turn Malfoy bright pink.

It was a tempting thought, but even he didn't have that much of a death wish.

Trying to pretend that he didn't notice the highly dangerous stick of wood at his neck, Tony just smiled back tightly. "And how does this stop me from telling a professor or something?"

Someone (probably Goyle) snorted behind Malfoy's back.

"Most Gryffindors think I'm stupid or something," Malfoy watched Tony, tilting his head arrogantly. "But they don't stop to consider how much it takes to reign in the slyest House of the bunch. I have connections _everywhere_ , so don't even try."

"So you're dating Professor Snape," Tony deadpanned. Malfoy stared at him disbelievingly as a couple of nervous titters echoed across the room.

After a pause, Malfoy said, "I don't know if you're just stupid, or you just have a death wish." He no longer looked interested, just a bit annoyed.

"You never said no," Tony bit back. Another fist came flying towards his face, and a sharp spike of agony bloomed over his cheek. He tried to hold back his hiss of pain, but failed, from the looks of satisfaction from Goyle's face. Someone (probably a first-year, from the sound of it) from the crowd whimpered.

Malfoy just sighed, almost boredly. "I would just advice you to be careful. You can't be running around and ruining our reputation after all." He gestured to his goons with a wave of his hand. "He's not worth the effort."

Crabbe and Goyle (or Goyle and Crabbe? He honestly forgot) obediently marched behind Malfoy like two big fat sheep trying desperately to get acknowledging for being the said good sheep. Malfoy just turned on his heel, and walked away, ignoring the two of them as they scrambled behind him.

The crowd, on the other hand, loitered in the common room for a couple of minutes more, some with sympathetic glances, and others with all-knowing tired looks in their eyes, like they've already seen Malfoy beat up a first-year plenty of times already and were well-versed in the consequences. Tony vaguely noticed that Natalie wasn't in her seat anymore, before pushing it out of his mind absentmindedly.

One of the older boys, the same one that Prefect girl was joking to, ambled up to Tony, with a resigned look in his face. "Welcome to Slytherin, I guess."

"A very nice welcome," Tony snorted, lightly running a hand over the skin that was starting to bruise slightly. He winced from the dull ache that seemed to radiate from the raised skin.

The taller boy frowned, before pulling out his wand. "Let me fix that."

Under his breath, he murmured "Espisky." Tony felt the bruise suddenly grow hot, before cooling down rapidly. Then, the bruise started to recede, and he grudgingly muttered a thanks.

He glanced at the boy, who was fiddling with his wand, before he huffed, "Why hasn't anyone stopped that lunatic yet?"

The other boy grimaced, and leaned in to mutter, "You think people haven't tried yet? Peggy's been trying to get him kicked out for years, but he's like a leech. His father has roots everywhere in the ministry, and Malfoy actually knows how to use that reputation to make legitimate threats."

Tony huffed quietly. "I thought he was just flaunting his family name around."

He watched the green light from the fires flicker across the taller boy's face. The shadows twisted in his face, giving it an eerie glow as he nodded grimly. "Most people assume that, but the Sorting Hat didn't put him into Slytherin for nothing."

Leaning even closer, he whispered, "The last kid who pushed him too far managed to get his father thrown in Azkaban for three days. Then he was disowned from his pureblood family, and sent off in the middle of last year without a warning, cauldrons and all."

He continued after backing off a bit. "Of course, it's just rumors and all, but it's pretty obvious when you see Malfoy strutting for the rest of the week across the school."

He smiled weakly when he saw Tony's blank face of disbelief. "But besides Malfoy and his group of cronies, Slytherin's fine. We just know when to pick our fights, unlike the Gryffindors, who honestly have no idea what they're getting themselves into at times and still charge in face-first."

Dryly, Tony muttered, "Even better. So now instead of being killed with other people, I get to die alone in a sad and lonely death."

Cheerfully, the other boy clapped a hand across his back. "Now that's the spirit! But Malfoy isn't going to be able to kill you, because Hogwarts professors can't condone murder. There isn't anything against maiming though."

Quickly, he went on when he saw the look on Tony's face. "Anyways, you've got my sister, Peggy, on your back. She's that Prefect girl you saw before, and she has a soft spot for underdogs. And, she's _wicked_ good at dueling. You should watch her when she's in the middle of the duel, and absolutely slaughtering her opponent under a load of ridiculous spells that shouldn't exist."

"But she can't do anything to Malfoy," Tony said bluntly. The other boy sighed, and shrugged. "To be honest, no one really can, not that I can see right now. But I know that Peggy terrifies him."

He glanced around, looking at the now-empty common room. "Seriously though, you've got to go now. Tomorrow's going to be pretty intense for you. First year, right?"

Tony nodded, and other boy quickly pushed him across the room. "You're sleeping in this dorm."

He led (or rather pushed) Tony ungracefully up the winding stairs at the end of the common room, and across to a mahogany door with a hastily scribbled sign in the front that said _First Years_.

Hurriedly, he opened the door, and gestured for Tony to walk in. "Name's Michael, by the way. If you need help, I'll try my best. We Slytherins might be super competitive, but we're also a House, and we need that House Cup by the end of the year," he grinned, before turning and walking down the stairs.

* * *

People really didn't know him if they expected him to sleep after that encounter with Malfoy.

Like sleep. Who even goes to sleep anymore besides babies and old grandpas?

"When you said, 'Talk to me later,' I didn't expect you to actually mean, 'Talk to me later in the middle of the night when any other sane person would still be asleep,'" Bruce muttered grumpily, rubbing his eyes. Tony didn't spare him a glance, and kept on walking down the spiraling stairs.

"I explored the castle a bit, and I think there's a broom closet somewhere here," he muttered, analytically scanning the stone bricks worn out from years of students trampling on them. "I've heard rumors about an unused room in the third-floor corridor, and I wanted to talk to you in secret."

Bruce yawned again, teetering slightly while dragging a hand across the stone bricks. "Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

Tony just ignored him, tapping a finger across the walls, before spotting a wooden door that had a broken lock hanging off of it.

"Over here," he hissed, and crept inside. Bruce followed after a slight hesitation. "We need to be quick. I'm not sure if there are night-time patrols here or not, and I don't want to find out."

Inside, the stones looked cracked, almost as if something large had rampaged inside and decided that it didn't like closed areas after all. A suspicious-looking trapdoor lay dead center of the room, and Tony mentally noted it down, before sitting down on the ground. Bruce groaned again, but plopped down besides him.

"What was so important that you couldn't wait until tomorrow?" he sighed, before yawning yet again.

Tony smiled grimly, before propping his head on his hands. "I've got two things. First, Malfoy's a cocky idiot who should be dumped on with pink sparkles. Second, was the hat weird to you too?"

"Whoa, slow down. I'm not even fully awake yet," Bruce huffed, rubbing his eyes. Then he looked at Tony with a raised eyebrow. "You really do like Malfoy."

Tony snorted. "He's like a rich princess who has his daddy take care of everything for him, but he takes advantage of that to do everything his own way."

Absentmindedly, Bruce asked, "Aren't you rich too?

He quickly went on, as if he just realized that he might have hit a sore spot when Tony slapped on a very cold smile. "Your father's pretty well-known, so I just assumed-"

Tony grimaced, before trying to seem amused. But judging by the sharp look Bruce gave him, it probably failed. "My father's… isn't very close to me."

Bruce opened his mouth, before closing it again, rubbing something invisible on his side. Quietly, he said, "I get that too."

"Rich daddies aside," Tony pushed on, "Just watch out. I'm a target, and since he already saw you with me, he probably knows you're a target too. So pretend we're like, the good guys or something, and avoid the enemy, which is like Malfoy and his goons."

"Alright?" Bruce looked at him cautiously, but with a much more focused look. Almost as if he was trying to analyze him, and read his innermost secrets. "Like a spy movie."

"Yeah, whatever that is." Tony said, before hurrying on, because Bruce's intense gaze was making him extremely uncomfortable. "What about the Sorting Hat? Anything weird about the inanimate object?"

Bruce tapped a finger against his chin, staring at Tony thoughtfully. Thankfully, it seemed to be less piercing look and a more of a I-have-no-idea-what-you're-asking-but-I'm-interested look. "The Hat did say something about me being complicated to sort me into a group because of messed up memories, but nothing really else."

Tony looked at him, frowning. "That's it? Do I have to kidnap more people now?"

Bruce squinted at the floor. "Actually…"

"Spit it out," Tony said impatiently, feeling the cold floor that was seeping ice through his robes with the back of his hand. "It's freezing here, and we really need to get back." And he did need to get some more research done before anyone noticed he was gone.

"Says the person who dragged us out here in the first place," Bruce muttered, before sighing. "I don't exactly know why, but-"

He trailed off, as if he couldn't hunt down the words that were floating around his head. After a moment, he finally said, "The Hat mentioned something about another personality. More… primitive."

Tony stared at him thoughtfully, watching the worried wrinkle in Bruce's forehead deepen as he grew lost in thought. "Maybe the Hat went loony after all?" he offered.

Bruce cracked a smile, before shaking his head. "It's real. I- I felt it when the dementors came in the train, and there was just this- this thing that almost came out, and it was so _mad_ and…"

Another pause. "There was a lot of green. And so much red, like the red was trying to hold back the green, and it was _weird_."

Tony rubbed a thumb against the stone floors and watched a piece of dirt crumple on his finger. The grains were gritty against his finger when he finally said, "There was a lot of red too when the dementors came. And I saw images."

"Yeah," Bruce's response was quiet too. "Lots of images."

"The red also appeared when the Sorting Hat went through my memories the second time," Tony muttered, wiping his finger across the floor. "The Hat tried to tell me something about the stone, but it never finished its sentence when Professor Sprout took it off."

Bruce's eyes were serious when he stood up, brown curls sticking up in random spikes of hair. "Something weird's going on," he said.

"You don't say," Tony sarcastically muttered, before pushing himself off the ground, and shaking dust off himself. "Apparently the Sorting Hat never changes its decision once it's chosen a House for a person. I've looked through random books like _Hogwarts: A History_ , and nothing says anything about duel Houses. There's been Hatstalls, like our precious Cap over at Gryffindor, but nothing so far as to actually shouting a House name and switching."

"But we can't do anything right now," Bruce answered, turning back towards the door. "I can rendezvous with you at a later time when it's not in the middle of the night."

Before he pushed the door, he looked back. "Anyways, how did you find out where the Ravenclaw common rooms were?"

"That's a secret," Tony winked back, because telling him that he just asked a ghost about the whereabouts of all the rooms wouldn't be as impressive as say, doing it himself.

"Of course it is," Bruce muttered fondly, as he crept out of the room. "Good night, Tony."

* * *

 **I'm so sorry about the wait, school's been absolutely killing me, with my three extra classes I'm taking, SAT stuff, and whatnot. Hopefully I should be able to write more because I finished my SAT prep and studying, but no promises. Otherwise, Happy belated Thanksgiving all, hope you ate a ton of mashed potatoes and turkey! For some reason, my friend doesn't like mashed potatoes, but they're so good, I don't even know how that's possible.**

 **For this story, I'm going to try to avoid having OC characters as much as possible, even though the JK Rowling didn't really emphasize much Slytherins that aren't in Malfoy's gang. Anyways, I'm pretty sure you figured out who Peggy was, but there'll be more Marvel characters in here who aren't very easily identified on the spot.**

 **How do you guys think Malfoy's characterization is coming along, though? I wanted to keep him arrogant and slightly cowardly, like in the books, but there must be some sort of reason why people listened to him in the Slytherin House. Again, I frankly think it's kind of stupid just putting all the "bad" people in one House (even Pettigrew was in a Hatstall between Slytherin and Gryffindor), but I don't want to completely change Malfoy's character.**

 **Reviews:**

 **ThePorpoisePhilosopher** **: It took me a bunch of research to plan things out for the wand stuff; I'm always intrigued on personalities because they always influence our decisions. Super glad you enjoy reading about my ranting though, it's great to hear about someone else who also likes that sort of things.**

 **Mystery1224** **:** **Hello again, thanks so much for reviewing again! :) I don't have specific dates, because school is a curse on all humanity, but I'm trying to aim for every 1-2 weeks. Obviously, that's failed for this chapter, but that's my goal.**


	6. The New Friend

The only thing that Tony hated more than blond brats with smug faces was mornings. Especially since he only had a two-hour sleep (nap?) because of his impromptu meeting and all that boring researching.

He groaned, and buried his face deeper into the soft mattresses, trying to ignore the clamor of everyone else as they started to get ready for their first classes. His own timetable lay, a bit crumpled like a pale, fallen bird, on his nightstand. He spared one tired look at the sheet and decided that he was too lazy to get up and reach for it.

Before he could manage to fall asleep again, someone poked him rather timidly.

"Er Tony? It's Tony, right?"

Tony let out another huge sigh, but sat up, staring blearily at the shape standing next to him. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and muttered, "I need my beauty sleep."

"You're going to miss breakfast then," the shape said undeterred, walking away. "And if you fall back asleep, I can guarantee that you'll miss your classes too."

"Classes, kablasses, whatever," Tony mumbled before he unwillingly climbed his way out of his heavenly bed. On the way out, he grabbed his timetable and stuffed it deep in his cloak, before shuffling after the person, who was just disappearing out the door.

The person spared him a side glance, his expression slightly bewildered. "Didn't you sleep last night?"

"Nope," Tony stated bluntly, before giving another huge yawn. "I had research that needed to be done."

For some reason, he didn't think of bringing his usual pepper-up potions, so he was feeling like absolute trash. And of course, Hogwarts had to be in the conspiracy to "let's kill Tony Stark" because at that exact moment, the stairs began moving under his feet.

Like an idiot, he blearily stared at the ground in confusion, wondering why in the world the earth just decided to spin faster. By the time he realized that the stairs could actually _move_ and he was definitely going to die, it was too late.

He stumbled and careened off the side of the stairs.

Only to be caught by the kid behind him, who grabbed his cloak and shoved him backward.

"You just made things harder for the rest of the Slytherins," Tony huffed, trying to appear like his heart wasn't pounding like a thousand tiny people hammering their fists against his chest. The other kid just stared at him, eyes still wide from the narrow miss.

"I- you," he tried to form the words before giving up, and gesturing to the ground that seemed like a million miles away from the top of the stairs.

Tony patted him on the back. "It happens all the time," he said shortly, before resuming his walk up. "I almost died, whoopie. Now get over it." On the plus side, he was actually awake now, so he wouldn't be catapulting down the stairs again. Dying to gravity was _such_ a stupid way to die.

They resumed their walk to the Great Hall in silence, but now the other person looked a lot more downtrodden. Trying to ignore the hurt look on the kid's face, Tony attempted to count the stone bricks lining the walls. After the 243rd brick, he sighed and looked down.

Gruffly, he muttered, "Thanks for the save," because the quiet was becoming suffocating. Not because he felt guilty for the other kid.

He definitely didn't notice the other student brighten up at the thanks. "No problem. My parents always said I could catch anything." he cheerfully responded. A few more steps and he shyly asked, "Are you Tony Stark as in, the potion extraordinaire?"

"That's me," Tony raised an eyebrow, and couldn't stop the warm feeling of pride spread across his chest.

"I've studied a lot of your work, and it's simply _amazing_ ," the other student gushed out, his voice quiet, yet somehow filled with admiration. "Your dad must be awesome, letting you work with all his supplies and stuff."

"He's the best," Tony grimaced. But it didn't matter anyway, because the other student was already rambling on. "My parents are Muggles, but then they told me I was adopted or something. So now, apparently my biological parents are wizards and witches. Thank god, because I don't know what that Malfoy person would have done to me if they thought I was Muggle. Apparently, it's really bad to be? But I don't understand why."

Tony nodded absentmindedly, trying to pretend that he was actually listening to the rambling because, to be honest, he kinda was really bad at listening to other people, and right now he was in the mood for breakfast and not some other kid's life story. "Uh yeah. Muggles. Bad. But only because Blond-boy is stupid."

He pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. They were approaching the Gryffindor table, with their brilliant reds and yellows (the best colors), on the way to the Slytherin side of the hall, when Tony asked, "Do you know who your parents are then?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Harry pointing out something to Steve on his timetable, with Ron nodding vigorously behind them. Trying to ignore the wistful feeling that suddenly sprung up in him, he half-listened to the other student's response. "I'm from the Dolohov family. And I have no idea who they are, because I didn't get the chance to look them up yet."

Ginny was sitting next to Harry, laughing at something Hermione said across the table. But when she looked up and met Tony's gaze, something in her face closed off. He was close enough to hear Ginny muttering " _Slytherin_ s," to the other people sitting around the table. " _Just like rats… pink potion… waste of time... absolute morons_."

He honestly didn't think he would care anymore, but something dangerously close to rage rose up inside of him, as the whole table burst out giggling when Ginny mimicked falling down a set of stairs. He gave Ginny a sardonic smile, then muttered to the student sarcastically, gesturing to Hermione sitting nearby, "I'm sure Bushy-brown hair knows, she had like, three books on my dad."

The other student frowned. "You think I should ask her?"

"I don't know, I don't really care," Tony shrugged.

"Are you sure they won't murder me?" the other student asked warily. "I've heard that Gryffindors and Slytherins don't like to get along together."

"They were _fine_ on the train," Tony sighed, trying to ignore the not-so-friendly looks that were so different from the smiles only a day ago. Looking back at the slightly paling kid, he added, "If you die, I'll make sure you have a good funeral."

"And is that supposed to make me feel better?" the other student said dryly.

Tony grinned and said, "I'll make sure there'll be a ton of chocolate also. Anyways, none of the Slytherins are looking over here, so you don't have to worry about them."

A pause and the kid let out a sigh. "Fine, but you'll have to buy me ice cream for the rest of the year."

"Deal."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," the kid muttered under his breath, a little grumpily, as he walked up to Hermione, who was still facing the other way, talking to Ginny. Tony watched as he shyly tapped her on the shoulder. "Er- hi!"

Hermione glanced back, gaze inviting and friendly. Until that is, she spotted the student's green Slytherin sigma on his cloak. And even if her expression didn't close off as much as Ginny's had, Tony still felt a pang of annoyance as her smile slightly cooled.

"Do you need anything?" she asked neutrally, her eyes holding a hint of suspicion. The kid's face visibly fell, and he twisted his robes in his hands nervously.

"Well- er, Tony, you do know Tony right?" The kid gestured to Tony with a free hand, letting some of the scrunched up cloth fall back down. Hermione glanced over, then looked back, seemingly amused. Some of the coolness in her voice died down as she responded, "Yep, and he's weird. Seems like you've found that out already."

Tony let out a squawk. He was not _weird_. He was perfectly awesome and awe-inspiring, thank-you-very-much. But of course, the kid nodded his head vigorously, ignoring the betrayed look Tony shot him. "I'm not really sure how he hasn't died yet. Honestly, that's probably magic in itself." He cheerfully smirked back at Tony, then continued, "But yeah, he told me that you knew a lot of stuff and all. So, I was wondering if you possibly knew my family? I kinda don't know who they are because-"

"Oh, are they famous? Sure, I can guess," Hermione nodded, cutting him mid-ramble, her brown curly hair bobbing behind her in friendly agreement. "Last name?"

"Dolohov," the student said, shrugging. "I'm not sure if they're famous or not but-" his voice faded when he realized that Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "What did I say? Are they actually famous? That's actually so cool, who are-"

"I don't think she meant it that way," Tony muttered quietly, watching Hermione slowly begin to frown. "We should leave. I don't have a good feeling about this." He tried tugging on the other student's arm, but he wouldn't budge, staring at both of them confusedly.

"Why are you pretending?" Hermione said shortly. The knuckles on her hand clutched around her fork were beginning to whiten, as her wide-eyed look of surprise was beginning to narrow into something that suspiciously looked really close to fury.

"Pretending? I- I don't know… what do you mean?" the student said cautiously.

"What do you mean?" Hermione whispered dangerously. "What do you mean, _you don't know what you said_."

"Woah, there must be a misunderstanding, because obviously our lovely friend over here has no idea what you mean, so you better stop-" Tony tried to cut in, but was interrupted by Hermione. "Are you purposefully trying to flaunt your family in my face?"

"No, what- I don't under-" the student stuttered.

"The _Dolohov's_ ," Hermione interrupted, "are a group of Muggle-murdering fanatics that got put into Azkaban for what they've _done wrong_. They've murdered thousands of people, and you expect to come up to me with a smile on your face, telling me to "guess your family" name as if it was something you were actually proud of?"

Something sickly was forming in Tony's stomach, as he watched the kid try to say something but fail, as Hermione grew more furious. In the corner of his eye, he could see Harry frown and shift his gaze to Hermione, no longer looking at Steve's schedule.

"Why would you come to our table in order to flaunt that you're from the Dolohov's? You shouldn't just try to scare me off just because your parents killed off thousands of innocent people. What did you think I was going to do? Run away?"

By this time, the hall was silent, as every head turned to listen. Besides her, Ron turned around, face filled with inexplicable hatred that shouldn't be there in a third-year student, but somehow was. Ron's voice was much too loud to be even be considered friendly, even without that look on his face, when he spat out, "Your parents murdered my uncle."

"I'm sorry, I- I didn't-" the student's voice was just a whisper now, slightly wavering.

"Just shove off, and leave Hermione _alone_. She doesn't need you bloody blokes prancing around, bragging about their parents being murdering scumbags. Malfoy does that enough already," Ron scowled, standing up. "It doesn't matter if she's a Muggle, but I don't suppose you would ever understand that."

It might have been funny in a different case, or a different occasion, as Tony watched the gangly third-year tower over the student as they tried to stare eye to eye. But it wasn't funny, because even if the student's face looked defiant, his hands were shaking badly. "You- I don't-" he trailed off weakly, glancing back at Tony with so much indescribable hurt that only appeared for a brief second that the sick feeling in his stomach turned into an ugly slush of guilt and anger.

Hermione pulled Ron down and muttered softly, "I got this." In a louder voice, she stonily said, "You're a fool. I don't care that you're from some sort of terrible family that has noble blood. Noble from what? From killing? That makes me more proud that I'm Muggleborn."

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Tony watched as Ginny stood up and started to applaud for Hermione. Then Harry, then Ron, then another student at the Hufflepuff table stood up, and another one at the Gryffindor table, and then a blue flourish from the Ravenclaw table, then suddenly it seemed as if the whole hall was standing up to applaud for Hermione who didn't seem like she was soaking in the applause.

"Settle down everyone," Professor McGonagall said, raising her voice above the amplified sound of applause. But out of the corner of his eye, Tony could see Professor McGonagall give a thin smile of approval to Hermione, before continuing to shoo everyone to sit down again.

When he saw the student hunch into himself, looking so _so_ small amongst the vast cloaks of black, that's when that slush of guilt and anger and shame hardened into pure ice and shattered. Without even thinking about it, Tony walked over and grabbed the student's shoulder to gently steer him away. "Gryffindors are so _ignorant_ ," he spat back at Ron and Hermione.

"About what? Ignorant that Muggle-born wizards and witches have the exact same rights as pureblood ones?" Hermione asked.

Tony didn't focus on the resigned way she spoke. He only saw white, white at the stupid unfairness that the kid was being judged for something he didn't even mean, white for the fact that he already knew he lost the friends he thought he had made on the train. "You _idiot_ , he's adop-"

"Don't."

Tony stopped when he heard the tired voice of the kid besides him. He turned, and there he was, staring at the ground.

"Listen to him," Hermione said, her voice also resigned and filled with disappointment. "I thought you both were actually decent, but-"

She sighed, then turned around without another word and speared a sausage on her plate with the fork she was holding tightly on for the past couple of minutes.

"Come on, you can ask me outside," the kid mumbled, tugging at Tony's robe.

"The hell, what do you mean, _don't_." Tony whispered indignantly as the student dragged him away from the Great Hall. He could feel the eyes of the accusing crowd following them as he was pulled along. The only pleased face in the crowd of people he could spot was Malfoy's stupid face, and his goons, all nodding approvingly when they caught his eye. He sneered back at them, sticking out his tongue.

As soon as they were out of sight of the tables, and safely outside the hall, he pulled his arm away from the student. "None of that was true," Tony spat out, running his hands in his hair agitatedly. "Why did you tell me to _stop_? They could have understood what you mean, and now they all hate you."

The student's voice was resigned when he answered, "I'd much rather have the Gryffindors hate me than the Slytherins." The expression on his face was so expressionless that Tony grimaced.

"What do you mean?" Tony signed, finally giving pulling up his hair into spikes, and plopped on the ground. "This was nothing to do with Slythe- oh."

A pause, and Tony finally continued, his voice toneless. "They would have known you would have lived with Muggles. Because everyone was looking at that point. And being in a family of Muggles would be a worse-" he coughed, "crime, then per se, being friends with a Muggle."

Dully, the other kid nodded, sliding down the wall beside him. "I had to either choose security over popularity. So obviously, I can't tell them."

"This is so _stupid_."

The student shrugged nonchalantly. Or, at least it would be nonchalant if his bottom lip wasn't shaking. "At least I know they won't try to stab me behind the back as the Slytherins would. Gryffindors are flashy. I would see them from literally a mile away." Tony watched as the kid wrapped his arms around his legs, momentarily disappearing in the folds of his black cloak. "This isn't the life I wanted to live. I thought I would be able to be myself at Hogwarts," he whispered.

"You and me both." Tony frowned. "It's just Malfoy and his cronies that believe in this blood-purist crap, right?"

The student shrugged, still a mass of black cloth. "Aren't there a bunch of Death Eaters who have kids in Slytherin? I mean, granted, they're Death Eaters who were pardoned for being Imperio-ed, or forced to help You-Know-Who, but Death Eaters are Death Eaters."

"Voldyshorts named his gang Death Munchers?"

"Death Munchers? Voldyshorts?" The student gaped at him.

"What is with all these terrible names?" Tony couldn't help but snicker.

"You don't know who the Death Eaters are?"

Tony hesitated because something about it was familiar. Then suddenly, there was a brush at the back of his mind, and the information slid back into his head from wherever it was before, almost as if a magician was wildly waving his wand in the back of his head, and in a burst of red mist, the information burst into being.

"What sort of hole did you live in? Even I know what Death Eaters are, and I just learned about the Wizarding magicky stuff a month ago."

"Nah, I know everything," Tony said. "I just-"

He paused because he _didn't_ know what he was thinking. Of course, there was a gang of dark wizards going around calling themselves Death Eaters, but a moment before, he could have sworn that he had no idea what they were called. He shook his head.

"Eh, that was weird. But yeah, Death Munchers, Death Eaters, yadayada. Whatever they're called, they're obviously obtuse and super hypocritical."

The student stared at him, his eyes still wet. But the corners of his eyes were somewhat crinkled in amusement, and Tony couldn't help but feel relieved.

"You're weird."

"Thank you," Tony did a half bow, since his legs was blocking the rest of the way to the ground. "I sincerely appreciate your recognition of my pure awesomeness."

"Technically, I shouldn't be friends with you either," the other student huffed. "After all, there are a bunch of baby Death _Munchers_ running all over Hogwarts. And you seem to be a trouble-magnet. Didn't Bushy-hair-" he winced indecipherably but continued, "-say something about that at the table?"

Tony grinned and stood to his feet. He offered a hand to the student who hesitated, but then took it and pulled himself up.

"What's the fun in that? You, my friend-" he gave a questioning look to the student.

"Holt."

"Ah, yes. Holt, my dear, dear friend, we shall wreak havoc to the rest of anyone who opposes after we find out what the deal is going on with the Ferret-face and the rest of the Slytherins."

The newly-dubbed Holt smiled weakly, but it was a smile nonetheless, and inwardly Tony gave a small sigh of relief. "That kind of sounds a bit tame compared to what I expected you to say."

"And that was?"

"Taking over the world."

Tony snorted. "That goes without saying. Join the Tony group, and we shall control the entire world with pink potions and hamburgers."

"Am I allowed to-"

"Nope! Not allowed to leave."

"Dang-it."

* * *

 **Sooooo... I'm alive. I'm so sorry, my schedule's terrible, and I know it shouldn't really be much of an excuse, but yeah hopefully I'll be updating more this month. The quarantine has been giving me a lot more time than usual, so I managed to roll out this chapter, but no promises. I know I mentioned 1-2 weeks last time, but that's been way way way off, so I don't want to raise your expectations. Thank you for being patient though, you guys are great for sticking around.**

 **Just a few things:**

 **1) Holt ain't an OC. I know, crazy right? Who could he be?**

 **2) Just keep in mind that Hermione's always had to deal with the prejudice of blood-purity and all. In my opinion, her reaction to Holt was completely expected, even if it was still unfair. But in her eyes, this new Slytherin student, not even Day 2 of Hogwarts, went up to her and seemingly tried to talk about his Muggle-killing parents. Ron also- his uncles were killed by the Dolhovs, as mentioned above. And yes, that is cannon. Hopefully I made their reactions kind of reasonable and not at all villan-y because that wasn't my intention at all. ;p**

 **Reviews:**

 **holyghostofsteve :** Thanks so much!

 **yournucleardeterrent : **Thank you! :)

 **TinyFox2 :** Perhaps! ;) Can't say anything about it though!

 **Guest :** Oooh, wonder why no one remembers Howard? ;) Thanks for your comments, I did think that making the Avengers first-years would be way more interesting because then we can see how they integrate within their own Houses as newbies instead of having a more typical plot with transfer students and all.

 **Rasi10 : **Really appreciated, thanks!


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